Decisions
by Just Ducky
Summary: When a child is kidnapped, old feelings resurface as two people try to find her.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: You and I both know I don't own the characters. However, you now know I do own my characters, Gracie, Luke, and Michael.

A/N: Okay, so I'm really nervous because this is my first Remington Steele story. The point I'm trying to get across, I suppose, is this. Please, please, please review and tell me how I'm doing! Thanks!

Prologue

Eleven year old Grace Holt, better known to close friends and family as Gracie stepped outside the house, accidentally slamming the screen door behind her. It seemed the calm before the storm, she decided, pretending that she was a storm chaser ready to pull out a camera and chase the dark and ominous clouds looming overhead. She plopped down on the front steps and let the wind blow her dark brown hair from side to side to frame her face, not caring if her new blue shorts and yellow shirt were mussed. She reached into the book bag she carried next to her and pulled out a large sketchbook. Papers were scattered everywhere, but then, organization had never been one of her best qualities.

As she opened the sketchbook, a gift from her mother for her ninth birthday, she flipped the pages and glanced at previous works. There were some pages of her younger brother Luke, some of her parents together, and some of nature, but the ones that were most interesting by far were of the Man. After a day of searching the dusty attic in their seemingly ancient house, Gracie came upon a single, crumpled half photograph of a man with a woman's arm draped around him. She had taken the treasure with the sixth sense that the woman was her mother, but she had never gathered up enough courage to come out and ask. And besides, the picture was torn in half.

The Man was very handsome, what with the same features as Gracie: dark, silky hair and deep, sea blue eyes. In addition, after careful examination in the mirror, she deemed her mouth and nose to be identical to his as well. Though Gracie knew not the man's identity, she found him a wonderful subject. The picture always left her with the feeling that he was truly happy with the woman next to him, maybe even in love with her.

Her pen and pencil seemed to float across the paper as she drew him in different positions. She drew him holding the hand of a young girl, rocking a baby in an oak rocking chair, taking pictures of a woman, and selecting a gorgeous grand piano like the one in her living room, which Gracie practiced on at least four days a week. She knew the man had to be important for his picture to be kept and stored in the attic. Her mother only went up there when she seemed sad, which was usually a specific day in May, and that day, she would look at all the old pictures and mementos of her life a long time ago. Her imagination had worked furiously the day she had found it, and when she speculated on it, Gracie decided it could possibly be her missing father.

Not that she felt deprived. Her stepfather Michael wasn't a terrible dad, but her mother and stepfather had been separated for over a year and besides that, the pre-teen was truly curious about her biological father.

As large raindrops began to fall from the sky, Gracie ran up the steps and climbed on the porch swing. She continued to sketch from the picture, this time with herself resting comfortably on his lap and her mother on his other side. They were on a swing much like her white one and all were wearing the same solemn look. When the young lady finally finished, she looked it over in triumph, then ran inside to show it to the only person she could.

"Luke," she yelled as she trudged up the maroon-carpeted stairs and through his door. She dodged the toys strewn on the floor with a forgivable nature; after all, he was only seven, and jumped on his bed next to where he sat playing with transformers and Superman.

"What?" he asked in a tone revealing he was annoyed.

"Here, look. Whatcha think?" she asked as she thrust it into his lap with the same tone of voice he had used.

He picked it up and let his eyes wander quickly over it. "It's good," he said, his voice now filled with admiration for his older sister. "How come I can't draw like you?"

She shrugged. "I dunno. Know where mom's at?"

"She's making dinner in the kitchen," he said, making a face before turning back to his toys.

After a brief stop in her room to toss her sketchbook and book bag on her bed, Gracie trooped down the stairs to find her mother in the kitchen. "Mom, are you actually making dinner tonight?" she asked, wrinkling her nose at the pasty spaghetti sauce and crunchy noodles.

"Yes, I am," Laura Holt answered, feigning a frown but knowing it wouldn't last. "But I believe we're eating out tonight," she answered as she dumped the entire pan into the garbage bin.

Gracie pulled up a stool and rested her arms comfortably on the counter. "Where's Patricia?"

"I gave her the night off."

"So are you like…gonna try again?"

"Um, no," Laura answered as she glanced at her daughter. Though she saw her daughter everyday, not a second passed that Laura couldn't see pieces of Gracie's father. Breaking the thought, she said, "Go tell Luke to put…never mind. Just go wait outside for us while I get him."

Laura tossed the towel playfully at her child's porcelain face, then kissed her forehead and went upstairs. Always, well, almost always one to follow orders, she jumped off the stool and started to go outside. But the thought of not taking her sketchbook when she usually took it everywhere…it was too tempting, so Gracie ran to get it quickly and then waited outside while Laura tried to convince Luke to stop playing upstairs.

It had already stopped raining by the time Gracie went outside, but there was still a slight chill in the air. However, it wasn't enough to raise the hair on the back of the girl's neck and arms as it was doing at the very moment. She immediately sensed something was very wrong as warning bells went off in her head. Gracie turned to go back inside, but she stopped in her tracks when she was met with a pair of smiling Irish eyes…


	2. Chapter 2

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1

Laura was in a complete frenzy. She had called the police, friends, neighbors, even gone as far as to call her mother and sister, but nothing turned up. The police wouldn't be able to help her for exactly eighteen hours, thirteen minutes, and for the sake of sanity, she wasn't counting the seconds. At least, not yet.

Gracie's sketchbook was lying in the exact same place it had been when Laura had come out onto the porch. Some pages were scattered or ripped, but everything seemed to be there. That was how she had come to the conclusion that something was wrong. When she had finally convinced Luke to brush his hair, put his toys away, and put on a cleaner pair of pants, they had gone outside to get Gracie and leave. The only thing in sight was Gracie's sketchbook, so at first, they thought she was hiding or playing a game with them. But after fifteen minutes of calling her name and still nothing, panic began to take over.

Laura had called Michael, who she hadn't even seen for a few months, and asked him if he'd come by and taken Gracie. When he had said no, Laura's heart again seized her as if to choke the blood from her. Mike had insisted on coming over, if not to help, then to take Luke and calm him down. He was convinced that Gracie had just run off and forgotten the time.

But he didn't know her daughter the way she did. Gracie was extremely conscious of time and would never run off without telling Laura first. So after checking the neighborhoods with some friends who had agreed to help for over two hours, the only thing to do was to wait until she could file a missing person's report.

"Let me just take Luke back to my place. That'll give you some time to check around again for Gracie and give me a little time with Luke. I haven't seen him for a few weeks now, so it'll be good for him to stay over," Michael had pointed out about fifteen minutes ago.

She was just too tired to argue, so she'd kissed and hugged Luke and sent them on their way. As the clock ticked back and forth, each second causing her more grief than the one before, Laura picked up Gracie's sketchbook and began to flip through it, witnessing her daughter's talent each time over. When she got past the pages with family and nature, she came across about five or six pictures of a man doing different things. Even without the picture she was sure Gracie had used, it was very recognizable whom she had drawn. It was Him she had drawn and remarkably well, too. Laura felt the wind go out of her as she wondered whether Gracie knew that this man was her biological father. 

It occurred to her then that He might have something to do with Gracie's disappearance, that she might have to contact Him as well if she wanted to find her daughter instead of sitting around doing nothing. Laura knew he wouldn't have ever go as far as to take Gracie from her, but other than him, she had no idea where to start.

However, it also occurred to Laura that He knew nothing of Gracie, didn't know that she even existed, therefore, how could He have had anything to do with Gracie at all? She wasn't even sure that Gracie had been kidnapped. Maybe Michael had been right about her wandering off. Maybe one of Gracie's neighborhood friends had come by and asked her if she wanted to go somewhere.

Then, as any worried mother tends to do, Laura began to think about what was happening to her daughter. Horror stories she had heard about children drowning or being raped and murdered by psychopaths threatened her mind; threatened her complete certainty that Gracie would be safely returned. What ifs became instant possibilities as well. What if she was cold and frightened, lying in a ditch somewhere, waiting for mommy and daddy to come save her like they always had before? What if…what if…what if…it echoed through her mind time and time again until Laura couldn't bear to stay sitting in her own house.

She grabbed a lightweight jacket and tossed it over her shoulders before going to the front door. The sun had dipped behind the lowest clouds and set for the evening creating a much chillier night than it had been during the day. Laura noticed the change immediately after stepping outside the house as her teeth chattered while she started the car. She dug around in her purse at the first stop sign looking for her cell phone and a hair clip.

Laura found both, pulled a section of her messy hair behind her head and clipped it, and then punched in a familiar number on the cell. "Mildred? Yeah. No, I haven't heard anything yet. Listen, I'm already close by, so could I drop in? We need to talk about something." She cracked a half-smile. "Yes. Bye."


	3. Chapter 3

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2

In the basement of a small house out in the woods, an older-looking man with wrinkled hands but bright blue twinkling eyes that gave him a younger age pulled a string attached to the bare light bulb. The bulb didn't shed much light into the tiny room, which was shaped like a prison cell, something the man had been used to for much of his younger years. He looked around, and seeing the papers scattered on the table near the pipes, he crossed the room with his cane and sat down at the table. The water pipe next to him dripped every few seconds onto the cement floor of the room, but the man wasn't bothered by it. He rather welcomed the sound because it had put his concentration on that instead of the screaming of the little girl.

Of course, he thought as a sly grin crossed his face, nobody was within miles of the shack anyway. That had been the main reason for choosing this place over some of the others he had singled out. Slowly the old man picked through the papers until he found a number scribbled in crayon on the back of a scrap of loose-leaf.

He angrily crunched the paper in his hand as he thought of the crayons that had been on the table when the number was written. The child who had written the number for daddy was long since gone; but it had never been his fault. It was Johnny or Harry or whatever his name was these days that lay at fault, but vengeance wasn't far off. Revenge, the man had learned, took a good lot of planning or things would all spoil. And this was far too important to be spoiled again.

Another memory hit him in the head like a mallet and he forced himself to sit down. He made a scramble for the bottle of pills on the far end of the cheap and plastic table to keep him in check. Couldn't have himself doing anything to screw it up. Last chances were always final and this last chance was something he wouldn't allow to get away.

Finally the old man calmed himself. He pulled the phone off the hook next to where he stood leaning on his cane and reached again for the crumpled slip of paper. Not allowing any more memories to hit, the man quickly glanced at the number, then threw it down as he dialed. It rang, once, twice, three times before the man himself answered the phone sounding like he had just risen.

"Hello?"

The man kept his breath as light as possible, but even that was heavy in his older age. He wasn't a twenty-something anymore. Now he was more a fifty or sixty-something, though he would tell no one his exact age and nobody really could tell. Finally came, "Johnny or is it 'Arry? 'Lo again, lad."

Harry sucked in a deep breath. "Sean," he said cautiously, not knowing what trouble the phone call could bring.

"So you do remember me, eh? I suppose you 'aven't forgotten any of it now, am I right?"

Silence. He couldn't speak about any of it; it was a painful part of the unspoken past, something Harry couldn't ever speak about to even those who had been closest to him.

"So I was right then. You 'aven't forgotten. Well, lad, now I've got something that'll make you squirm."

Harry bit his tongue. "What are you planning?"

"Curious are we? Your Grace is the same age my Maryn was when it 'appened. We'll discuss details later, but know that for now the little lass is safe."

The phone went dead and Harry knew it was useless to hold on. There would be no trace on the phone, he knew that too. But who was Grace, he wondered. Maryn had been eleven when the incident occurred, but Maryn was Sean's daughter. And he knew that he didn't have any children…but after a few minutes of pondering, Harry came to a final conclusion. He'd do what he usually did when there was something that required help: he'd call Mildred.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Gracie slowly looked up at the man after she heard him hang the phone up. She didn't know where they were and she didn't know who the man was, but as her sixth sense had told her at the house, the man was not a good person. He couldn't be when he had taken her from home, from the safety of her mother and brother, and left her sketchbook lying on the porch.

The light in the room was dim and the cot she was handcuffed to was creaky and rusty, so much that it wobbled with every move she made and alerted the old man when she moved. Her eyes were burning and rimmed red, though she hadn't cried for more than a few moments. She didn't want him to think she was a baby who cried all the time.

"So the lass is awake now?"

"Who were you on the phone with?" she demanded suddenly.

"What makes you think I'll tell you?" he asked in a charming voice.

"Because," she said in a timid voice.

"Well now, don't act afraid of me. Never did like children who weren't strong."

"Are you crazy?" Gracie asked, trying to sound defiant.

"Never can tell. Wouldn't you like to know who I was talking to?" he asked suddenly.

"Please?"

"Your father. 'Ave a bone to pick with him. You'll 'ave to forgive me for using you to do it."

"You were talking to Michael?" she asked curiously. "Or were you talking to my biological dad?"

"You don't know? Well, I suppose your mother never told about your daddy 'Arry."

"Harry? Is that his name?" she asked as she felt the picture of him poking her in the side from inside her pocket.

"That's enough talk about 'im now. Might get another migraine thinking about that, and you saw 'ow terrible they are."

Gracie settled back into silence and leaned back against the wall. It was grungy, like a cell, and it was frightening to be in a dark, new strange place. She guessed from observing the room and the lighting that it must be the basement of the place. Her mom had taught her to always observe everything because it was an important tool if ever she was in trouble.

Her hands were starting to cramp with the handcuffs chained so tightly around them, but they seemed to be just loose enough to reach for her pocket. Gracie twisted her body until she was lying flat on the cot, then yanked one final time and reached into her pocket, grabbing both the picture of the Man and a bobby pin she had used to pin her hair away from her face.

The old man didn't look up at the squeaking noise of the camp cot, but Gracie didn't want to take any chances, so she cautiously raised the picture into the light where she could see his smiling face staring at her, making her the center of his world. Through the tear that dripped across her cheek making a new river track, Gracie wondered if the Man, Harry, would be her hero; the dad who would give her piggyback rides when her legs tired, tuck her in and read her a long story, and the dad who would share her thoughts and dreams without ever telling her they just wouldn't happen.

Questions floated through her mind about him, about the man who had brought her here and chained her to the rusty cot for revenge, and about her own safety. "Can I ask you a question?" she asked after sniffling and tucking the picture away.

He looked up at her, obviously startled. "Suppose so."

"Do you know if the Harry guy is really my dad?" she asked earnestly.

"As much as Maryn 'twas my own flesh and blood, I know that 'Arry is your father."

"Who is Maryn?"

A menacing look crossed his face. "Was. Past tense. 'Twas my daughter, the same age as you when she died."

That was not the right thing for him to say to reassure Gracie. "Can you tell me about Harry?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

"I don't really want to go there about 'im."

"Then what time is it?"

"Time for you to stop asking questions and go to sleep. We 'ave a long day tomorrow."

"But when do I get to talk to my mom or dad?"

"I told you, tomorrow we 'ave a long day. We'll talk then."

She pulled the covers up over her legs and turned until she found a comfortable position to sleep in. On her side facing the wall, she quietly prayed that someone would figure out what the man wanted from Harry so she could be safe again. Her eyelids began to droop as she realized just how tired she was and laid her head on the ratty pillow. The petrified feeling started to slip away and a feeling of comfort replaced it as she drifted off into slumber land, not giving anymore thought to the next day.


	4. Chapter 4

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3

Laura stepped inside the door to Mildred's house and wrapped her arms around the older woman. "I am just so scared," she admitted.

"Honey, Gracie is much stronger than you might think. That girl has wit and you know she'll be just fine. Now what is it that we need to talk about?"

Laura stepped into the brightly-lit living room and took a seat on the cushy couch. "I found some sketches in Gracie's sketchbook this evening when I took it from the porch. She must have found a picture that I tore apart way back when and started drawing from it. Look," she said as she pulled the folded sketch from her purse and handed it across the coffee table to Mildred.

"Wow, I knew she could draw, but…this looks just like the Boss."

"Do you…do you think he found out about her?" she blurted out as she sat back against the flowered couch. "I can't believe I'm doing this. I never used to be like this; even right after Gracie and Luke were born. Why can't we find her?" Laura asked with obvious frustration.

"Look, she's only been missing for a little over seven hours, right? If I didn't know her, I'd say just what the officer said; she probably ran off and forgot about time. But I do know Gracie and since I know it isn't in her personality to do that, all we can do is try to figure out what happened," said Mildred as she handed the sketch back and turned the switch on a lamp next to the end table.

Before Laura could get another worry off her chest, the shrill ring of the phone cut into the conversation. Mildred hesitated, then made a move for the receiver. "Hello?" she answered pleasantly, just as though nothing was wrong.

"Mildred?"

"Bos…I mean, hello?" she asked with a quick glance at Laura to make sure she hadn't noticed that she had almost said Boss. Laura glanced at her questioningly, then mouthed, "Who is it?"

"Salesperson," she mouthed back. Then, "Could you possibly call back in about five minutes?"

"Mildred, is anything wrong?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah, you bet. Five minutes."

She placed the phone back on its hook carefully, trying not to give herself away. She never had been any good at lying to Ms. Holt though. "A salesperson at eight thirty p.m.?" Laura asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes. We're familiar on a personal level. Friend of a friend type of thing. Listen, you go home, make some calls just to make sure one last time that Gracie is not at a friend's house and then call me later. No matter what time," she reaffirmed, all the while giving Laura a gentle push towards the door.

Laura nodded unhappily. "My mother insisted on coming over to help out tonight anyway, so I guess I'll go talk her out of it," she commented with a grim look on her face.

Mildred sighed when she shut the door and Laura went down the brick walkway towards her car. When the phone again rang, she hurried to pick it up. "Boss?"

"Mildred, how many times have we gone over that? Call me Harry now. What was that about earlier?"

"I was talking to a friend. You're not calling on schedule." she reprimanded, easily changing the subject.

"Nice tactics," he said with a grin. "I know. But I have to ask you a few things." Their 'schedule,' as they called it, was the phone call one of them made each week on Sunday evening to catch on the week, almost mother to son.

"Shoot."

"I recently received a rather chilling phone call from a man from my past, Sean O'Rourke. However, he didn't state his purpose except that he had something that would make me squirm, a girl named Grace."

Mildred held back a theatrical-like gasp. She took a deep breath. "Did he mention who Grace was exactly?"

"No, and that's the strange thing. He compared her to his daughter Maryn, a little girl I knew when I was back in Ireland. He blames me inadvertently for her death. It was actually his fault, but he still blamed me, I suppose, because he couldn't take the fact that he had killed his own pride and joy. He adored that little girl," he mused quietly, sadness overtaking him. His first time speaking out with even that little bit of information would be the hardest he told himself. "But he also said that Grace was the same age as Maryn when she died. Do you know who this Grace might be perhaps?"

"This was never supposed to slip past my lips," she said with a sigh. "But it's important, right? Of course," Mildred said as she answered her own question. "Grace is Ms. Holt's daughter, eleven years old, and she's been missing for over seven hours."

Unsure of how to react, Harry simply stated, "Is she my daughter?" When silence received him at the end of the phone, he said again, this time in a firmer voice, "Is she my daughter?"

Always having been a softy when it came to Harry, Mildred felt a crack in her wall, causing the entire thing to crumble. "I'm not at liberty to say," she stated weakly.

"Mildred. This could be important. Sean's going to keep contacting me with information about Grace. This could mean finding her unharmed before too long. If you won't tell me, then give me Ms. Holt's phone number," he insisted.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea. She's really very stressed right now for the obvious reason."

"Mildred. Look. I need to know," he reiterated. "Do I have a daughter?"

"Yes."

The one simple word rang over and over again in his ears while his head swam with thoughts of an unknown little girl. "And she's," he stopped for a moment to clear his throat. "She's eleven now?" 

Mildred could hear the hurt in his voice, could almost picture the pained look that was sure to be worn in his beautiful eyes, and the sad smile plastered across his face to try and hide it all. "Yes. Harry," she said softly, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Ms. Holt swore me to secrecy. She always said she would tell you someday…but I guess someday wasn't here yet. If it helps any," she added in the brightest fake voice she could muster, "Gracie knows Michael isn't her dad. And she found an old picture of you in the attic which she's been drawing you, her, and Ms. Holt from," she added hurriedly, hoping he would concentrate on Gracie's artistic talents rather than the mention of Michael.

"I think it's best if we talk about Grace and this Michael person later. As much as I'm curious to find out, I'd rather bring her home safely now and learn later. I need Laura's number."

"Oh, I don't know…I still don't think it's a very good idea for you to call her right now. I could get in some serious trouble with her," she warned nervously.

"I think it's past time that we talk. Apparently we have some things to talk about," he said with irony dripping from his voice. 

Mildred sighed uneasily as she stood and moved towards her desk where her phone book lay untouched. Without opening it, she recited the number and then finally hung up the phone. When the house was quiet again and she was left alone with her thoughts, Mildred began to revive the old memories from the days Remington Steele had been the most famous detective in Los Angeles and his unidentified associate had been head over heals in love with him.

She reached under the small lamp table next to the couch and opened the drawer. Inside was one medium-sized plain white photo album with a minimal amount of photos for the seven years it should have covered. Mildred flipped open the first page of the scrapbook and broke out into a smile immediately, recalling the exact place they had been and just how angry both of them had been at each other. 

It was this way until Mildred got to the last picture of them together, the only copy of the photo that was still intact, being that Laura had ripped it in half, taking the half with Harry and her arm and leaving Harry with herself and his arm. It was the same crumbled half-photograph that Gracie had found in the attic and probably the most sentimental one of the entire bunch.

When she was finally able to turn the page, she came across pictures of Gracie as a newborn and her firsts of everything: her first step, first word, first day of pre-school, her stint as a flower girl when Laura had married Michael, her first time holding her little brother, and just about every happy and sad face the child had ever made. Gracie was so dear to Mildred's heart, probably because she was just as Mildred could have imagined Harry must have been like at her age. 

But as she sat back against the couch and curled up with an afghan, Mildred could only hope and pray that her 'grandchild' would find her way home safely. And the more that she thought about it, she prayed that her 'kids' would do the same.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: Sorry it took me so long, I have midterms coming up, fundraising, and between all this, I haven't had any time to write. I also forgot to mention in the disclaimer that my characters of Sean and Maryn are also my creation. Anyway, enjoy, and uh, don't forget to review!

4

Tossing her purse and keys onto the table, Laura picked up the cordless phone and dropped onto the couch tiredly. Though the time she usually settled comfortably into bed alone was fast approaching, Laura doubted she'd be able to sleep without knowing that her daughter was safe and sound. She sighed as she leaned her head back on the edge of the couch and cocked her ear to listen for any sound other than that of the crackling of the logs in the fireplace. The house was eerily quiet without either of her rambunctious children; she mused as she realized it was something that she had taken for granted in the past.

Laura almost picked up the phone to call Luke just to hear his voice, but a quick glance at the clock told her Michael had already put him to bed. Usually it was her job to tuck both kids in at night, going from Gracie's room after the reading of a very large chapter book to Luke's to read a simpler stepping stones book. Michael had never participated in their nightly routine and never expressed an immense interest to join in, but it seemed that perhaps now, while they hovered at the brink of getting a divorce, he wanted to try.

Despite the general warmth of the room and the heat radiating from the bricked fireplace, a tingling chill ran up Laura's spine, causing her to jump as the phone let out a shrill cry. Crossing and then uncrossing her fingers, Laura reached for the phone and said, "Hello?"

"Hello Laura," answered the voice on the other end softly. "I believe we have something to speak about."

She wasn't quite sure whether to be angry or grateful for the distraction, so she chose the route that would keep anything personal from seeping into her voice. "I'm not sure what name you go by now, but whatever it is, this is not a good time, so you'll have to call back in a few weeks," Laura stated in a cold and impersonal voice.

"Don't hang up, please. I know what's going on and I believe I know where Grace might be. And I go by Harry now, I suppose."

Not only did hearing his voice spark Laura's interest, but the mention of her daughter in the same sentence…she wouldn't hang up, she decided. "Alright. I won't hang up. What do you know about Gracie?" she asked with a hint of curiosity lingering in the undertones of her voice.

"Gracie?" Harry asked as a tiny smile lit his otherwise frowning face. "Nickname?"

"Yes," Laura answered as her eyes fluttered shut and she tried to picture what he looked like so many years later. "What do you know about her?"

"I don't think we ought to get into this on the phone. It's much more personal than that, wouldn't you agree?"

"So you do know?" she asked, more of a statement than a question.

"Yes," came the quiet answer.

Laura bit her lip and rolled it around with her tongue. "Then we really do have a lot to talk about. Where are you?"

"Let's just say that I can be over to your house in a matter of a few hours."

"Fine. Do you need the address?"

He shook his head. "You never do learn, do you?" he chided gently as he hung the phone up and smiled. The smile, however, quickly disappeared as he again thought of Grace, or as Laura and Mildred, he recalled as well, called her, Gracie. Harry had faith in her, because, though he didn't know her as of yet, if she was Laura's and his daughter, the child had the best chance with Sean possible.

Harry lifted a lightweight jacket off the coat rack and opened the front door, preparing to step out into the dreary night, all the while detailing in his mind the plans for the rest of the night. He would stop for coffee, or better yet tea, he decided, because it seemed that the night would definitely be one of the longest of his life.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Gracie woke with a start and twisted around uncomfortably on the wiry cot. Suddenly, she wasn't so tired anymore. The blankets were damp, with sweat or water she didn't know, but it was even worse than the ones she had used to sleep on at camp. The green padding was thinner than her favorite security blanket at home, which was very used by itself. The man had long since gone up the stairs, stumbling to walk with his cane, as the stairs were very steep and slippery.

He had turned off the light and given her one last warning about any noise, besides pointing out that it was useless. Gracie wasn't terrified of the dark, however; she was definitely less than thrilled with it in such a strange place. _Calm,_ she thought, almost hearing her mother's reassuring voice saying it to her, pressing a cool washcloth to her forehead like she did when Gracie had a fever. In a weak and feeble voice, Gracie started a favorite bedtime song from her younger years, before Michael and Luke.

It came out as a whisper at first, "And Hennessy Tennessee tootled the flute and the music was ever so grand." Her voice broke as she tried to continue without homesick tears trailing down her face. "It's a credit to old Ireland is McNamara's band." She hummed along the next part until her voice came back. "My name is McNamara, I'm the leader of the band. Although we're few in numbers, we're the finest in the land."

Gracie sniffled a few times before regaining control. _Wonder where mom heard that song,_ she thought, because the song had always been one they sang together at night before bedtime. She could remember many nights listening to her mother's beautiful voice lolling her to sleep. Disregarding the song, Gracie laid back and noticed that the knot in her stomach had lessened somewhat. "I knew that song would help," she said out loud to no one in particular.

Suddenly, a sound perked her ears and stopped her in mid-breath. Gracie looked up to the ceiling to see where it had come from. The door swung open and the old man bumped his way down the stairs angrily. 

"I 'aven't even gotten to the best part yet and 'e takes off. Thinks I don't know where 'e's gone. 'Ave the cell number too," he mumbled to himself. He dialed the number and tapped the cane next to Gracie's bed, where she lay pretending to be safe in her sleep. 

It rang once before the fast and furious answer came, "Hello?"

"Well, 'arry, my boy, I told you I'd be calling on you again."

"What is it you're after Sean?" he asked cautiously.

"That's somewhat of a complicated answer, now isn't it? 'Ave you ever heard your daughter's voice before? I suppose it might change things for you. Never thought you'd be a daddy, did you?"

"Put her on the phone," he replied forcefully.

Sean chuckled. "Did you really think it was that easy?"

"Put her on," Harry said as Sean could hear him pull the car to a stop in the background.

"Hello?" he heard the trembling voice of a young lady say. "Is this Harry?"

"Yes, this is Harry," he said, letting out a breath of relief he hadn't known he was holding. "Are you Grace?"

"Gracie. Are you my dad?" she asked bluntly. "Cause the man said you are and Michael isn't my dad and I have your picture," she said hurriedly.

Before Harry could answer, Sean took the phone back and said, "Now, you know the drill. No cops if you want her safe, and I'll be in contact with you later. And one thing," he said as he paused to get rid of a hacking cough, "Tell Laura that 'er daughter is safe when you see her."

Harry silently swore as he heard the click in his ear. He hit his hands on the steering wheel, causing the horn to blare from the side of the road and other drivers to look his way. Another half an hour and he'd be at Laura's, so he decided against reporting the latest over phone. He wanted to see her before telling her anything. She'd always been strong, but she was no longer the same Laura he'd known and he would do anything to keep her from getting hurt again. Anything.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Laura finished cleaning the living room as she placed the magazines in the cabinets that they opened about once a year only to shove more things inside. She tossed down the dust rag, then placed her hands on her hips and surveyed the room. The last time she'd been possessed to clean…Laura couldn't actually remember when she'd cleaned as well. It always seemed hopeless to clean in the morning because the kids would spill something just as the cleaning got finished, so she didn't do it often.

A knot formed in her stomach as she again glanced at the clock. She pressed a hand there, trying to relieve the excited, nervous feeling lying in the pit of her stomach. Laura would be the first to admit to herself that she was terrified of facing Harry again, terrified of feeling the hurt she had the last time she'd seen him, and terrified of making any realizations that might complicate her life any more than it already was.

Laura got an uneasy frown upon her face as she thought about the last time she'd seen him in person. Willing herself not to think about, she took a shuddering, deep breath in and realized she was shaking. What had happened to the Laura Holt who had almost never let anything or anyone penetrate the invisible walls surrounding her entire self?

Giving in to the inevitable, Laura plunged her thoughts into memories and prepared to face the hurt head-on, because it was due time to start the healing process.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Hi! Sorry it took me eons to get this next chapter up, but you'll be happy to know it's longer than the others are. Since it's spring break now, I should be able to get up at least one more chapter in before I go back to school. Anyway, don't forget to review because it's the reviews that really keep me going!

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5

Twelve Years Before

It had been two years and then some, Laura knew, which meant far past time that their sham of a marriage was over. Every day since their second anniversary, which had been a wonderful night, she added in thought with a sly grin; she'd woken up with unease lying in the pit of her stomach. Fear. Joy. Confusion. She was riding on a roller coaster with a dozen loops of emotions to get through without screaming to stop the ride.

Using the same analogy, Laura contemplated getting off and finding a new ride or weathering the loops because she was where she was supposed to be. It wasn't that they were being forced to stay together for any reason at all…and come to think about it, maybe that was the problem, at least for her. Maybe it was that Laura wanted guarantees he couldn't make and promises that he couldn't be sure of keeping whether he wanted to or not.

There were no promises, no crystal ball with which to make their future together the way she wanted it. Within all the confusion of a possible broken or saved relationship, Laura began to piece together the puzzle. Beneath all the layers of fear and anger and confusion, she knew what she wanted. Laura wanted him to stay and be happy to be only with her for the rest of their lives together. That was the most honest, blunt thing she'd ever determined about herself, but she didn't know what to do with it.

Because he wasn't saying that he wanted to stay, wanted her, and wanted to continue within the safety of their current life. Granted, he wasn't saying he wanted to leave either, however; Remington wasn't actually talking about it all. It was obvious that when they talked about anything remotely related to the two of them that he was uncomfortable.

So if both of them avoided the subject, couldn't things be the way they were? Somewhere, deep down inside, Laura knew it wouldn't work like that, not if they didn't voice opinions and make choices to suite a future together. And technically, since Remington wasn't jumping up to start the conversation, Laura would again have to take charge and come across as her strong and domineering self.

"We have a new client to discuss," he said stiffly as he adjusted his tie in the bathroom mirror, interrupting her depressing thoughts.

"Mrs. Graves." she replied in a monotonous voice as she thought of the thirty-year-old blond widow whose case they'd very recently taken on, and only because of Remington's insistence of helping the 'poor woman.'

"Yes. She's requested that someone fly up to Denver on Saturday to do the work needed there."

"As much as I'm for helping every client, I still think we should refer her to Murphy. He's already local and he has the capabilities to do the work."

"Yes, but she came to us," he argued.

Laura sighed as she too leaned in towards the mirror to check her appearance. Gaunt face, sallow cheeks, pallid complexion, and the weight she was dropping rapidly created quite a picture reflecting in the mirror. And the queasiness and headaches…lately, she hadn't been looking or feeling her best, which was obviously affecting not only her job but her personal life as well.

As Laura peered tiredly at her reflection, Remington finished and glanced over at her, perhaps actually seeing her for the first time that morning. It was often that he looked at her, but as for really seeing his wife, seeing her face, recognizing her emotions, watching every toss of the head, every laugh, and every crease of her face…it stopped him in mid-thought. "Laura, are you feeling well?"

"Hmm?" she asked as she was drawn from her own world.

"I asked if you were feeling well. You don't look well enough to go anywhere," Remington said, frowning, immediately concerned about her.

"I am. I am," Laura insisted, gently but firmly, with a weak smile as she finished up in the bathroom and left the room.

Shaking his head, Remington gave up. He'd learned long ago that it was useless to try and convince the woman otherwise when her mind was made up. With one last check around to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything, he followed her outside.

At precisely ten a.m., Mrs. Graves walked through the doors of Remington Steele Investigations. Or rather, in Mildred's opinion as she watched the woman, flounced. With a bright smile and a colorfully expensive outfit, Mrs. Graves was the epitome of a wealthy woman.

Holding up a finger, Mildred smiled and pressed the button on the intercom. "Yes, Mildred?" answered Laura.

"Mrs. Graves is here to see you," she said.

"Now? Never mind. Send her in."

"You can go on in-through that door right there," Mildred pointed out.

"Thank you," she replied.

Laura stood as the woman entered. "Mrs. Graves, what can we do for you this morning?" she asked in her most cheerful voice.

"Mrs. Steele," she greeted Laura, "I was told by Mr. Steele that I'd receive an answer this morning."

Faltering for only a moment, Laura guessed, "An answer…about Denver?"

"Of course," Mrs. Graves said as she sat in the chair provided and dropped her small handbag onto her lap. 

"I'm afraid Mr. Steele forgot to update me on the case," Laura excused, shooting daggers from her eyes as Remington entered the room.

"Ah, Mrs. Graves, good morning," he said as he quickly came towards the two women. "How are you?"

"Very well, thank you. I was just asking your wife about Denver."

"Ah, yes, Denver," he said with a charming smile. "We were just discussing the case this morning."

"And your answer?" she prodded. "I'll be more than happy to provide accommodations for whoever is going."

"We-'' Remington started, but was interrupted by Laura as she said, "We'll be happy to take on the case. However, we work as a team, equal partners, and if one of us goes, the other does as well," Laura finished in a slow voice, but kept an edge that made her conditions all the more effective.

"I'll…arrange for another plane ticket," she agreed. "Thank you so much," Mrs. Graves said as she walked towards the door. "I'll have my secretary deliver the tickets to your office tomorrow morning."

When she was out of earshot, Laura turned to face her husband. Fuming, Laura spoke purposefully, saying, "You didn't bother to tell me she was coming here this morning?"

No reply.

"We will both be going," she said aloud, as if deciding it for the first time and announcing it to only herself. It was time to take charge, to do something, and to choose what she wanted to happen. If only it would work…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Saturday arrived, things were still in a mess, just as they had been and would have to remain while they were gone. There wouldn't be time to check personal baggage, which only made Laura dread it all the more.

"To the airport, Fred," Remington said after they'd loaded a few day's worth of luggage into the limo. Each settled into their own uncomfortable spot, listening only to silence around them as Laura looked out the window and Remington stared at his hands in his lap. "Laura, I was thinking, perhaps we ought to stay a few extra days in Denver after we take care of Mrs. Graves' problem. Just think of the relaxation that a vacation would bring both you and I. You could sleep in, give some rest time to just yourself…maybe you'd start feeling better than you have been lately," he suggested.

"We can't leave Mildred in charge of the office for that long just so we can be on vacation. I mean, sure, she has Gina to help her out, but for more than a week?"

"Mildred has always been a fast learner, she'll take care of everything and keep the office in order."

The dubious look on Laura's face gave away her thinking. "I still don't think it's a good idea," she said.

"Then let me convince you." Remington leaned in towards her and placed his lips just barely over hers. He placed a feather-light kiss on her lips, then leaned back far enough to see her entire face and reaction.

"I think I'm convinced," she said softly, having forgotten all the problems surrounding them. It felt good to have a time when she could act without over thinking things. However, as the car pulled to a stop, their brief moment was interrupted, their private spell broken, and the problems back. Sighing aloud as Mrs. Graves pulled Mr. Steele over 'for a conference,' Laura stepped out of the car as well and began to grab the bags as Fred took them from the trunk.

"We'll have the investigation completed in no time at all, Mrs. Graves," Laura could overhear him reassuring the woman in the background.

"Thank you so much Mr. Steele. I honestly don't know where I would turn if you weren't here. And please, call me Ellie," she said graciously.

Already feeling irritable, Laura didn't know whether she could take another moment of that woman's admiration of Remington. Gritting her teeth, Laura struggled to take the final piece of luggage. "Mrs. Steele, may I help you take that inside?" Fred questioned, turning her full attention onto him.

"No, I'll be fine. You can go ahead," Laura said.

Fred nodded, then moved back towards the driver's seat and climbed in. Laura silently watched him go, grabbed only her two bags, and started towards the doors. "Your bags are there," she called, then left the two standing together, though she was unsure either had even heard her speak. If things kept up the same way, Laura would definitely need that vacation because it was going to be a long, long trip.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The first thing she would do after they had checked into the hotel, Laura decided, would be to call Murphy. Besides the obvious fact that he knew the area better than they did and could give her a little help, Laura was anxious to see how he had been since the last visit, at the wedding. 

She rifled through the phone book before finding the right page, then trailed her finger along until she had found the right number. They hadn't kept in contact, more Laura's fault than his, partially because she just hadn't made the time. Picking up the phone, she dialed the number and waited until she heard a familiar male voice answer with a cheerful, "Hello?"

"Murph?" she said.

"Laura, is that you?" he asked.

It's me," she said happily. "How are you?"

After a quick glance at his surroundings, Murphy smiled and replied, "Not bad. What about you?"

The smile evaporated from her face as she paused an extra moment before answering. "I'm okay," she said cautiously.

"I know that voice. It's your 'I-say-it-but-I-don't-really-mean-it' voice. You never could lie to me very well. What's he done now?"

"Nothing. I was simply calling to catch up with a friend I haven't talked to in ages. We're in Denver," Laura said.

"Vacation?"

"Case. Do you know an Ellie Graves? She's a widow, brought both of us up here to investigate her late husband's ex-business partner."

"Everyone knows Ellie Graves. She's pretty big around here. When her husband was murdered, it made front page across the state."

"I just can't help wondering why she'd want to fly us into Denver though," Laura said with another sigh. "But that's beside the point. Are you going to be free any time this week to have lunch?"

"And miss out on seeing you for another two years? I don't think so. I'm free…tomorrow, actually. Will he be there?"

"No."

"Okay. Why don't you come over to my place for lunch tomorrow at noon? I'll do the cooking," he offered enticingly.

"You'd have to do the cooking unless you wanted true to life blackened chicken," she said, laughing. Already a great weight was being lifted from her shoulders by talking to Murphy.

"Alright. See you then," he said.

Laura smiled a half-smile as she placed the phone back on the receiver. In a quiet moment, she glanced around the hotel room that Mrs. Graves had reserved for them. From the window, she had a beautiful view of the scenery. And if weren't so much colder in Denver than California, Laura might have even liked it there.

She decided the best route to go was to start getting some work done. After pulling out the file containing any and all the information on the late Richard Graves' ex-partner, James Potter, Laura settled down at the desk provided to review it. When she'd gone through twice, taking her all of two hours, and not found a single spot to suggest anything to do with the death of Richard Graves, she wasn't sure where to go.

Her eyes began to water as she attentively studied everything related to the people or the company. "Absolutely nothing," she murmured as she shoved the papers back inside the file folder and tossed it back into her suitcase. As Laura stood, a wave of nausea and dizziness hit her, and somehow, her legs managed to carry her into the bathroom, where she found herself still twenty-five minutes later. 

Meanwhile, Remington walked in the door of the hotel room and called out, "Laura?"

Not able to answer, Laura simply hit the door to give away her position. "I knew you were sick," he said as he stooped down next to her.

She swallowed, then looked up at him, saying, "That's not going to help."

"Here," he said as he sat down next to her, careful not to disturb her, then gently stroked her forehead. She let her head fall to rest on his shoulder as the nausea began to go away. "Why don't you let me handle the legwork tomorrow with Ellie while you rest in bed?" he asked quietly.

Laura shook her head. "I'm perfectly fine. Mrs. Graves," she emphasized the formality as she said the woman's name, "has absolutely no knowledge of detective work, and we agreed that we're partners."

"I know. But do you have to be so stubborn that you won't allow yourself some time to get better? You and I both know that I can handle a single day's worth of legwork."

"I am not stubborn," Laura said as she lifted her head and looked at him.

He chuckled. "That's an understatement."

Glaring at him, she replied, "I'm not."

"Fine, you're not. Just let me handle it so you can rest."

"Well, I do have to go over to Murphy's for lunch… I'll let you handle it. But only for tomorrow," she said quickly.

"You've already talked to Murphy?"

"While you were out charming the client, I talked to him and went over the files twice."

"I was not charming Ellie. She was simply showing me a few attractions. And you're going over to Murphy's place?" he questioned.

Laura rolled her eyes. She slid away from him, leaning against the cabinet for support, as she stood weakly. Managing to make it over to the bed, she looked through the suitcases she had brought for something comfortable to sleep in. "Yes, I'm going over to Murphy's. There's nothing wrong with me going to see an old friend."

"Except that he was in love with you for how long?"

"He got over that when we got married," she protested. "Besides, I think he has a girlfriend."

"You think?"

"I guess I'll find out tomorrow, won't I?" she said as she slipped a long shirt on for a nightgown. "I'm not planning on having any dinner, because I don't think I could keep it down if I tried," she said queasily. "But I'm sure you can catch dinner with Mrs. Graves."

"I'd rather stay here with you," he said as he caught her eyes.

"You don't need to stay. Go ahead, I'm just going to take a nap anyway."

"Laura, are you sure?" he asked quietly.

Biting her lip, she nodded. He nodded as well and walked over to the door, slipping the second door key into his pocket as he went. "Is there anything you want me to bring back?"

"No."

"Okay."

After the door slipped shut, Laura sighed and berated herself for pushing him away when he tried to get closer. "Every single time," she said as she laid her head down against the coolness of the pillow. "Every single time."


	7. Chapter 7

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6

Present

Laura jerked awake with a start, her eyes darting around the dark room only lit by a few embers left from the fire. "It's not happening," she murmured as she felt around for the reading lamp with her hands. It only cast a small glow across the room, but enough to make Laura rub her eyes until they were used to it. Then she glanced at the watch she wore on her wrist to check the time. It was well past one a.m. and Gracie had been missing for almost twelve hours, but at least they had an idea of where she might be.

Not that it was helping any. Laura could recall a bittersweet memory, when she was younger, probably a little older than Gracie, that she'd tried to run away, mad at both her parents for something or other. When her father had found her curled up in the tree next to Frances' old bedroom window, her mother had hugged her like she was dead and brought back to life. All Laura could think was that she understood now.

A quiet knock at the door brought her out of her reverie. She looked up at it, unmoving as she locked her eyes on the door and didn't remove them. Laura finally jumped to her feet, realizing that the neighbors might find it odd to see a man outside her house at one a.m., and unlocked the lock, allowing him to step inside.

Nothing could have prepared her for the moment she would come face to face with the man himself. At that moment, she knew it was inevitable, that once she laid eyes on him again, she would never be able to go back to her life normally. Shocked into silence, Laura could only stare at him, as he with her. In the darkness of the night, his eyes, always the same, whether in her dreams or memories, seemed to glow like brightly polished gems. His eyes were haunting and soul searing, the only thing that could pain her more than the memories she'd just relived minutes before. And his face…the curve of his jaw was sharp, the lines detailing his forehead more defined, and all was looking worn. More slender, if possible, indicated that he, like her, was suffering.

Harry noticed her shocked demeanor at seeing him. And yet…he was just as entranced by her. He drank in all the features he had longed to see, to touch, and not those in his memories, but those only a true to life look at her could bring him. The bare amount of light caused the shadows to play on her face. She wore not a smile, but a close-mouthed stare. Laura's brown hair seemed to surround her face, casting the glow of a million different colors, while her eyes, the windows to her soul stared straight back at him. By seeing her eyes, he could feel a spark that indicated there was still a chance…a chance that the feeling was still there. He silently dared her to speak, wishing to hear her lilting voice, as he had once put it, and be able to put it with the face in person. Harry wanted to touch her, to verify it wasn't just another dream, but reality, but he didn't dare break the connection for fear he wouldn't get it back.

Finally finding her voice, Laura said quietly, "Come on in."

He stepped inside, admiring the house, trying to get past the awkwardness both felt. Through the door, Harry looked around the living room, wandering past the fireplace, the couch and chairs until he came to stand at the hand-carved bookshelf. His hand scraped the bindings of the books as he looked over them, then turned back to face Laura. He'd almost forgotten what he had wanted to say to her, how angry he'd been about Gracie, and the feelings held deep in the crevices of his heart.

"I don't know where to start," he said as he removed his jacket and held it in his arms.

"I do. What do you know about Gracie?"

"Laura, stop being so angry with me. If anyone should be angry, it ought to be me."

She almost opened her mouth to get into it, but for the moment, she weighed the options: knowing about her daughter, or arguing with her daughter's father. Choosing the former, she sat on the edge of the couch and waited for him to speak. "Sean has her, we know that. He told me to tell you that she's safe." 

Without knowing it, Laura let out a breath of relief. "I heard her talk," he continued. His voice softened as he spoke again, "She has the most amazing voice," he said like a proud father. "She asked me if I was her father. Then she added 'because the man said you are and Michael isn't my dad'. Sean hasn't told me what he wants, but I suspect it's about revenge."

"Revenge for what?" Laura asked.

"Revenge for his daughter's death when she was eleven. Maryn."

"So he's going to use Gracie against you because he blames you?" she guessed.

He nodded. "He said no police and he'll contact us later."

"What happened with Maryn?" she asked, and immediately realized she'd struck a chord.

"Maryn would be about our age had she not died," he said quietly. 

"Tell me. Please," she urged.

Taking a breath, he said, "When I was about, oh, nine or ten I suppose, I was living on the streets in Dublin, having just run away from some people who claimed to be my cousins. I found a few friends on the streets, no one you'd really want your kids to play with, but they were kind to me. But, of course, I had to find a way to make a living of my own, so I started to pick pockets. This was a while before I met Daniel, so I was doing the best I could, trying to learn from my friends, but by a stroke of bad luck, one day, I picked the wrong man's pocket. Sean," he said with a bleak smile.

"And what happened?" she asked solemnly from her seat on the couch arm, only feet away from where he stood reliving painful memories.

"Sean, at the time, was a wonderful man. He took me to a café down the street, and though it was dingy and cheap, it had the best hot food I'd ever tasted. Perhaps it was that I hadn't had hot food in a few months or maybe it was just I could taste the gratefulness since he hadn't turned me in yet," he said with a regretful smile. "I didn't trust the man right away, but he slowly won me over while he gently, but firmly talked some sense into me. Meanwhile, I gobbled down as much food as I could, because I didn't know how long it would be before I had any again."

"He gave me two options: stay on the streets, or return the money and he'd help me to a better life. I had no idea what he was talking about, but when he brought me to his house that night, I felt pretty lucky. He was going to allow me to stay in his garage apartment and help out around the house, where they ran a small bed-and-breakfast, because his eleven-year-old daughter, Maryn couldn't do it all herself. He had no wife, no woman around the household, but with my limited skills, things started to get better."

"Why didn't you continue to stay there?" she pried.

Holding up a finger, he kept going in an anguished voice. "My first crush was on Maryn. Oh, I knew she was off limits, but she was the sweetest, kindest person I'd ever laid eyes on who was a girl. Maryn had dark green eyes with long eyelashes," he said with a face that seemed to suggest he was seeing her right before his eyes.

"And her hair was long and beautiful and silky to the touch. My friends would have laughed had they seen me, because sometimes, I even brushed her hair for her. We talked too, so much so that I knew all her most private and deepest secrets not even her other friends knew. But a few months after I'd cleaned up and came to stay in the garage, I decided to sneak out, just for fun, to see if I could do it. Maryn, from her bedroom window, could see me. We even had a secret system so I could tell her stories at night, after Sean had safely tucked her in. She caught me leaving and threatened to tell Sean if I didn't let her come."

Pausing for only a moment, Harry then continued, "I'd already decided to see a movie at the theater with the little bit of allowance I received, so I couldn't turn back then. I gave in and allowed her to accompany me. We saw the Maltese Falcon at the theater, and by the end, she was raving about how good it was. She'd never seen it before that. When we reached home, I received my first kiss from a girl. On my cheek," he added. "Then she entered the house while I stood, watching her go, awestruck and delighted."

He stopped. "I don't think," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. Harry cleared his throat as he looked downwards. Laura, without thinking, reached out and touched his arm. He looked up again, staring straight into her deep eyes. "That was the last time I saw her alive. I waited a few minutes, waited to see her signal that she was safely in her room, but it didn't come. So I again left the garage, went down to the front of the house, only to see a few of Sean's drinking buddies slipping out of the house. I went inside to see the rooms cleared out of anything valuable, only one picture of Maryn and I left with the glass smashed, lying on the floor in the middle of the room."

"I guessed his friends had cleaned them out, but I was too worried about Maryn to go get Sean. So I crept along the hall until I got to Maryn's room. I had never been allowed there before, but I felt fear for one of the only times in my life. When I opened the door, I flicked the light switch on the wall and," he said trembling. "And I found her lying on the floor, bleeding profusely, already gone. If I had just gotten there five minutes before," he choked out.

"It wasn't your fault," Laura whispered.

"I picked up the knife Sean's buddies had used in a rage when Maryn wouldn't indulge them with whatever they wanted. At that moment, Sean walked in, and seeing me, holding a knife covered in Maryn's own blood, kneeling next to her, with her nightgown pushed up… He took it the wrong way and went mad, hitting me over and over, thinking that I had done it to the only girl I had ever had a crush on. I screamed over and over again, 'I didn't do anything!' but he didn't listen. I took off, not bothering to get any of my things, and I just never went back. I wandered around until I found another way to live off the streets, with someone new," he said as he looked downward again.

The room became almost silent, except for Harry's labored breathing. Laura couldn't help but to feel touched that again, he managed to share with her a piece of his terrible past when she needed to hear it. "I have something to show you," she said as she stood.

Making her way over to the bookshelf, she took a binder covered in creamy white lace in her hands. Then she motioned for Harry to follow her up the stairs. She went down the dark hall, not bothering to turn any lights on as she led him past a messy room covered with action heroes that made it obvious it was her little boy's room. They passed another room, with the door shut; that he guessed was Laura's.

She stopped at a room with artwork covering the door, sketches of people and nature, and paintings that seemed professional. "Is this?" he questioned, his eyes wide.

Laura nodded and opened the door, switching the light on as she entered. "This is Gracie's room. And this," she motioned to the book she held, "Is her baby book. I think it's time to get to know your daughter."

Harry sucked in a breath as he looked at the picture covering the front slot. A newborn baby, with tufts of dark hair looked up at him, staring him in the face. He passed the neat piles of clothing, the desk with art supplies and music books, and the two small bottles of silver nail polish to sit on her bed, which was covered in a mauve bedspread. Laura only stood near the doorway to stare at him, watching him uncover Gracie and her secrets.

"My turn," she said quietly, causing him to look up at her. "When our daughter was born, my life changed. For the good," she added with a half-hearted smile. "This," she pointed to a picture of Gracie lying on the couch, sprawled and asleep, "This tiny human being changed my entire perspective on, well, everything. I never thought I could be a mother. And I don't know about the job I'm doing, with all the piano recitals and school picnics I've missed, but Gracie and Luke don't seem to mind too much, because every night, they greet me with unconditional love and a bedtime story."

"I couldn't believe it," she said with a quiet chuckle, "When I brought this little person home from the hospital. And her first word… Do you know what her very first word was?"

Harry shook his head as Laura crossed the room to sit in the rocker that was still in Gracie's room though she was almost a teenager. "Her very first word was baby," Laura said. "Her first step, here," she said as she flipped the pages and pointed to a worn photo. "She was wearing a dress I had bought her and teensy white shoes that fit her just perfectly. We were taking a walk in the park, me leading her along. All of a sudden, her chubby little fingers let go and she just stepped…towards the sandbox. I just grabbed the camera and caught her at just the right moment, right before she took a tumble. Gracie didn't really seem to mind; she just got on her knees and started going again."

"She started piano because it was something she wanted, and art came naturally for her, so two years ago, I gave her an expensive sketchbook for her birthday. She's a dreamer, you know," Laura said with a downcast smile. "A few months ago, we had a mother to daughter talk about careers. Gracie didn't know what she wanted to do. Way down beneath, she's very curious and very ambitious. She would make a very good private investigator, but I'm not forcing her to do anything she doesn't want to do. She's been a tomboy mostly, but lately, she's been getting into playing with makeup and having girls-only sleepovers to play truth or dare."

Laura stood and went over to bureau and opened the top drawer. Reaching inside, she pulled out a medium-sized box and the leather-bound sketchbook from where she'd placed it safely earlier. "Then there's this," she said as she came back to stand next to him. "This is her box for everything important. Inside are her most prized possessions, including a ratty stuffed animal, a gift from Mildred, a picture of her, I and Luke, and eleven birthday cards from Murphy. And there's one other thing. This," she said as she opened the box and handed him a shirt he immediately recognized.

"That's my old shirt," Harry said.

"It was the only thing I could find left of yours after… Long before Michael, I explained to Gracie that her daddy was a good man who wasn't able to be with her. When she begged me for something of yours, I finally gave in and went digging in the attic, only to find this shirt. I knew you loved it, and it smelled just like you, so I gave it to her. She slept with it in her arms every night for the longest time. If she didn't have it, she cried buckets of tears," Laura said as she looked at her hands in her lap. "Then one day, it just stopped. She put it in her special box and that's where it stays."

Then Laura opened the sketchbook. She flipped pages to find the multitude of drawings Gracie had done. "Here." As Harry took the book and looked at the sketches with amazement, he couldn't believe the accuracy with which Gracie drew.

"Would you tell me something, truthfully?" Harry suddenly asked.

"I suppose."

"I know about her now, and she knows of me, but would you have told me if I hadn't found out on my own?" he asked.

"Honestly? I really don't know," Laura admitted.

"One more question? Actually, make that two," he frowned. "Michael?" he prodded.

"We're separated. Plain and simple, I'm fairly sure we'll be getting a divorce," she said without emotion.

"Why? What happened?" he asked.

"I don't really want to get into this right now," she said as she stood.

"Okay. Okay," he said softly.

"Your second question?"

"Now that I know about her, do I get to play a part in her life?" he asked as he looked over at Laura, who was again sitting closely next to him.

"I don't think I could take her from you. But you have to understand that she might not be comfortable right away with you. She doesn't know you, and I know that that's my fault, but you have to let Gracie get to know you before you can take over in her life as her father. She may never have considered Michael her real father, but I don't know what her reaction will be." 

"I plan to stick around and take it slow. But there's one last thing," he said slowly. "What about you and I?" he asked as he looked at her with the same intensity as he had the first moment they'd locked eyes.

Swallowing, Laura asked, "What about us? Right now, this cannot be about us. Not while Gracie isn't here or safe or-'' she stopped mid-sentence. "I can't do this. Things are different now, but the history is still there and so is the pain. And this," she indicated, "Cannot happen," Laura finished. Then she bolted up, grabbing Gracie's baby book and leaving the room without a glance back.

He looked after her, then all around the room. "Not now. But we will get down to it, so help me God, we will."

*Okay, I don't want to beg, but please! I'm desperate for reviews, because without them, I don't know what you all think of this work of fiction! So please, please review, and also, thanks to those of you who do review, because I'm extremely grateful!*


	8. Chapter 8

****

7

Again feeling tired, hungry, and helpless, Gracie twisted in her makeshift bed. No longer as afraid now that she'd talked to Harry, Gracie was confident that her mom and Harry would soon be able to find her and capture the man. And the picture…she happily reached for it where it now lay across her pillow next to her.

But, she began to reconsider, why shouldn't she be able to do something to help in the meantime? Puzzled as to what she could do to get away, her brain began to function as she remembered the bobby pin in her pocket. "I should have thought of that before," she said to no one in particular. Having already taught herself how to pick locks by watching her mother, she grabbed the single bobby pin in her short's pocket with ease. She had already twisted into a position where she could take anything she needed from her pocket, though there wasn't anything else left to take.

She held it up with a triumphant gleam. Gently, Gracie poked the lock of the handcuffs until she heard a soft click, and… "Yes," she whispered excitedly. Freeing her arm, she shook it loose to get rid of the cutting sensation she had been experiencing and realized she could do something to get away if she hurried.

Gracie knew it had to be quiet, so as to not wake the man, even though he was upstairs and the door was shut, so she quietly crept to where a large basin stood in the corner. Looking up at the only window, though it was locked and covered well with thick and crusty white paper and duct tape, she tried to push the basin over underneath it. As it scraped the floor, however, she realized it was making too much noise, so she tried putting her arms around the basin and lifting it to under the window. 

Frowning, Gracie realized neither way would work. So instead she lifted a few lightweight boxes from another corner and put them down in front of the window. She grinned at her own handiwork as she climbed on top of them, first making sure they were steady and then tried to peer through the window. The pre-teen lightly ripped the paper so only a small slit was open, then lifted the taped down paper to see for herself that it was very late, probably past midnight, she guessed.

Seeing the handle of the window locked and bolted, she knew there wouldn't be any way to escape that way. But the man had underestimated Gracie. With Harry for a father and Laura for a mother, he had really no idea what he had gotten himself into by taking her.

Feeling the boxes begin to totter under her, Gracie unsteadily gripped the window ledge. Before the boxes could collapse and wake the man, alerting him to her movements, Gracie climbed down, tossed the boxes back into their heap, and raced back to her bed. When she heard no noises, she realized it was probably safe, but wanting to be very careful and resourceful, she took no chances. The girl waited another few minutes, managing not to let her eyes droop too much as she laid on her cot, then got up again to explore possibilities.

After a few minutes of searching, something caught Gracie's eye, something that she knew, as she smiled a wide smile, a trademark of her mother, would help her to plan a smart escape that the man wouldn't even know about.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Sean sat at his grungy kitchen table, unable to sleep, plagued by feelings of doubt and guilt, shame and agony. Sleep was a luxury that he no longer enjoyed since Maryn's death and it had become a regular occurrence to instead sit in a dark place to think. The man was barely able to keep a handle on his need for revenge on Harry. In his mind, the guilt weighing down his soul would be lifted when Harry had suffered and paid for Maryn's death. Her precious, sweet life ripped out from under her because of a stupid mistake on his part, taking in a young boy who he'd thought seemed harmless.

Maryn had been the only thing to keep him on the straight and narrow. Before his daughter's birth, he'd been working in the bar, drinking, fighting, blaming everyone and everything for his misfortune…not caring whether he lived or died. But in one night, everything changed, the tables turned, and he met Brighid. Finding a new energy in her carefree ways, Sean began to find small reasons to change. And when Brighid told him of her pregnancy, while she was upset, he was overjoyed. It was just what he needed to change…a new life that was a fresh start.

After giving birth to a baby girl they named Maryn, he and Brighid struggled to be the perfect parents to her, trying to avoid making the same mistakes their parents had made with them. Before long, however, she was unable to handle the pressures and left him with only a one-year-old and a small salary to live on. He refused to be bitter. Instead, he decided again that he could do better, if not for himself, then for his sweet daughter. Out of that need, his bed-and-breakfast was formed in his own house, furnished with creamy white walls with apple borders, wicker furniture, and a cozy atmosphere to please customers.

But, in the very instant he'd found Harry kneeling above her as she bled to death on her bedroom floor…he'd become a bitter old man with a sickness and a thirst for revenge. Finding the house empty, he missed the simple hugs and kisses, the little face created in the likeness of her mother, the unconditional adoration and love…how his heart ached for the little girl that would forever remain a memory. Pausing from staring into the only picture the wretched boy had left him of Maryn to let a thick cough escape his throat, Sean narrowed his eyes angrily.

Downstairs was a tool, a very powerful one, indeed, an innocent little girl like Maryn that belonged to Harry. It was brilliant, he thought, as he stared past the window and curtains without seeing them. How Harry hadn't known he had a daughter, and yet Sean had figured it out…and now her life was in his hands as Maryn's had been in the boy's. 

Gracie was hauntingly similar to Maryn in so many ways, but so different in others. The features and colors were all wrong, but the attitudes and personalities…if he had wanted, perhaps, he could have replaced Maryn's memory with Gracie's, just to keep her and take her away from the father she'd never known. But it wasn't that easy, he reminded himself, and besides, the object of the game was to make them suffer by doing the same thing Harry had done, not to keep the child locked away forever.

Without removing his eyes from the laughing picture, Sean reached for his cordless phone. He could feel the need pulling at him from the inside, the need to get under Harry's skin, the need to push, push, push until those tiny shoves sent him over the edge. But he resisted the temptation to call again so soon. He wanted to spread things out, give the frantic parents time to feel the panic rising as if it would suffocate them like a hand squeezing the last choking breath from the throat of a victim. So instead, he resisted the urge and forced his hand back down to the table, slamming it and holding it with the other. He'd slowly get to Harry by making him wait, not by rushing things. So he settled back into his chair, reclining uneasily as he made the decision to wait until he could do real damage.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The silence enveloped him as he sat in his missing child's empty room. As it became too much for him to handle, having only learned he was a father hours ago, inside him somewhere something urged him to get up, stop the wishful thinking, and use the talent that had come so naturally long before to find Gracie. Harry was still numb, however, with all the new discoveries and memories and people…he didn't know if he had either the strength or the determination to start again as of that very instant. Maybe he ought to simply shrug it off until morning, or let it go and call the police.

But the fathering instinct bubbled up, caught him, and pulled him under, forcing him to disregard any other option than getting Gracie back right away, safely in her mother's arms, and maybe, with time, his own. He found himself going down the stairway until he again came upon Laura, obviously tired, her eyes drooping as a worried expression played on her face. Clearing his throat to alert her gently to his presence, he said, "I've considered all the options and I think the best for you right now is to go upstairs to your bedroom and catch a few hours worth of sleep."

When she would have protested, he interrupted saying, "I want to ask you a few questions, but then I want you to get some sleep. You'll need the strength when we're able to find her."

Yawning and almost convinced enough to give in for a few short minutes, Laura nodded. "I've heard that if a kidnapped child isn't found within the twelve hours, the chances of finding him or her decrease significantly," she murmured as an afterthought, a fear lurking in her mind. "I've never had a child's kidnapping to solve before, and starting with my own offspring's isn't my idea of learning on the job," Laura said dryly. 

"Ransom."

Her eyes darted from where they lay to focus on him. Realization dawned on her as she remembered. "Ransom," she commented.

"Mel Gibson, Rene Russo, Buena Vista Home Entertainment, 1996."

As absurd as it was, Laura could almost feel a sense of relief flooding over her to know that the movie lover in him was still intact. With the tense situation, she hadn't even noticed he'd stayed away from all movie titles.

"A man's son is kidnapped and held while the father does everything in his power to get him back."

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she said nothing. Then, "What did you want to know?"

"What time did you realize Gracie was missing?" he asked.

"About one or two in the afternoon." 

When she didn't volunteer anymore information, he prompted, "What was happening?"

Sighing, she said, "We were getting ready to go out for an early dinner because I'd given Patricia, our cook, the night off, and my meal was a failure. I got Luke from upstairs and we went outside to meet Gracie by the car. She wasn't anywhere in sight."

His mind's eye recreated the scene as to how it might have gone, with Sean simply pulling her out of her own yard or having an accomplice, most likely very close to him, do it. "He called me somewhere in between seven and eight that night," he said. A thought crossed his mind suddenly. Perhaps the time in between when Gracie had disappeared and when Sean had first called him had something to do with where he was holding her, how close or how far away that was.

Abruptly, he put the thought on the back burner and turned back to see whether Laura was still sitting as wearily as before on the edge of the couch. "Go get some sleep. I'll wake you in a few hours," he said as he directed her towards the stairs.

"My daughter is missing, and you think I can sleep?" she asked sharply.

Knowing that she was feeling guilty for wanting to do so, he prodded, "If anything happens, I'll wake you immediately, but there's no reason for you not to get some sleep. Besides, it's past," he stopped to glance at his watch again, "it's past two a.m., and at least one of us ought to get some sleep."

"I'm going upstairs for one hour, but then I'm coming back down and I'll be wanting you to update me," she startled to rattle off, but was cut off by the deep stare of his blue eyes into her own. Relaxing the tension from her shoulders, she felt the full weight of her arms down to her fingertips.

A short while later, Laura entered her bedroom, her sanctuary, and tried to decide whether or not to change into more comfortable clothing. Setting the alarm and flipping the reading lamp light on, Laura reached into her top drawer of the pine dresser and pulled out an oversized T-shirt that she seemed to shrink in. Slipping that over her head and then putting a pair of comfortable gray sweat pants on underneath, Laura slipped between the covers of her bed.

As tired as she was, however, she figured that sleep wouldn't be coming easily. Laura tried to focus on whatever else came to mind, but nothing else except the memories would come. Already tired from resistance and wear, sleep overtook her body, and her mind whisked her away again to the memories she'd been dreading all night long.


	9. Chapter 9

****

8

Twelve Years Before

Planning to meet with Murphy at one for a late lunch, Laura decided to take advantage of the free time she had. She'd been forbidden to even mention the case, so she spent the morning lying around in bed, being unproductive in a way she very rarely was. At about twelve she got out of bed and took a quick shower before dressing in a light summer dress she'd brought. When she was dressed, she peered into the mirror and pulled her hair back into a partial ponytail, then swallowed hard when her stomach began to churn. The churning didn't stop, but it quieted, and Laura chose that moment to leave for Murphy's.

When, after following his directions, Laura arrived twenty-five minutes later, she couldn't wait to get inside and see everything. She walked steadily to the front door and was greeted by a grinning Murphy, who enveloped her for a few moments before standing back to inspect her. They exchanged greetings as he led her into the front room, but before long, they had ended up in the kitchen talking like the old friends they were.

"So what is it you aren't telling me?" Murphy finally asked after they'd finished their lunch and moved into his living room. The room was silent but for a few familiar noises and it seemed open in its width and color.

"What makes you think I'm not telling you something?" she asked as a sad smile played on her lips. Lifting the ceramic cup to her lips for a sip of iced tea, Laura glanced around at the French doors that led into his backyard, of which she could see only a small garden and bright colors. "I like the house. It seems awfully big for one person, though."

"I'm not the only one who lives here. My dogs live here too," he said, in all seriousness. "And so does my girlfriend. But no more changing the subject. What's got you looking so pale and worried?"

"Girlfriend?" she threw her eyebrows up, but catching his stern look, she stopped. "I caught a bug," she shrugged, giving it the brush off.

Murphy stared for a moment. "I may not have seen you in the last two years, or talked to you even, but I know that with as much change as you could possibly go through, personalities like yours die hard. So tell me what's on your mind. Is it him?" he ended as he edged forward in his seat.

Laura shot him a look from over the top of her cup, which was still poised at her lips, though she'd ceased drinking. Finally, she set the cup on the table in front of her and glanced back upwards, heaving a deep, steadying breath as she gathered the courage to voice her suspicions aloud. "It's just...the thing is...well...I think I might be pregnant," she finally blurted out.

For an instant, Murphy looked stunned, but grinned immediately after and said, "Pregnant. Congratulations!"

"No; I mean...I'm not sure yet, and it's more of a curse than a blessing, I think."

"Is it because he isn't happy with the news?" Murphy accused.

"He doesn't know. He just thinks I have a bug, which was what I thought before all the other things...I need to get a test before I think about anything else."

"Do you love him?" he asked. When she didn't respond, he said, "Does he love you?"

Dropping her head back, Laura waited a moment before she looked back up, and when she did, Murphy could see the fear in her expression. "I don't know. I don't know if he loves me, because the only reason we got married was so he could get a green card and this is just an added complication. I mean, we've already been married six months longer than required, and he's stayed, but would he really stay if we had a baby? No, because this wasn't something he bargained for." She sat back again and quieted, catching her breath, praying she was wrong, caught somewhere between hope and fear that she was indeed, pregnant.

"Before you do anything else, you need to find out for sure. There's a drugstore around the block. I'll go get you a test or two, and you can find out for certain. And if you are, then you can go from there, okay? I'll be back in about ten minutes," Murphy said as he strode to the front door and opened it, glancing back only to give her assurance. "Go ahead and look around, all right?"

Laura nodded slowly and bit her lip as she watched him go. She hadn't wanted to blurt everything out at once, but she had, and now that it was done, she felt slightly better. It didn't ease her worries, however, when she again thought of her husband and the possibility of him leaving if and when he discovered he might be a father. Besides the possibility of an infant, there were still unresolved issues from their marriage that needed to be dealt with, and neither could seem to broach that subject either. Standing and flexing her muscles, Laura slipped off her shoes and slowly made her way through the room. She let her hands glide along the odds and ends of furniture that had been placed in the room before she drifted to another, not feeling like a trespasser, but more of an explorer. It was easy to slip into someone else's life and things, she thought as she picked up an expensive silver picture frame and noted the woman inside.

When Murphy returned, all the calming that had come from the distractions immediately disappeared. He handed her the plain paper sack and directed her towards the first floor bathroom. "Come out when you're done," he said, knowing that there was nothing he could say that would ease her nerves or help the situation. "It's going to be okay, you know."

Laura didn't bother to reply as she slipped into the tiled room with the sack. She completed the test, then sat down on the side of the bathtub to wait the time required, during which she continuously brushed the hair on her head from one side to the other. When the time was up, she could barely look to see, and finally, she appeared in the doorway of the room, holding the product in her hands.

"Well?" he prodded with more calm than he felt.

"Um-hmm," she said, looking down at the floor.

A faint smile traced his lips. "Laura, that's terrific." Wrapping her in a hug, Murphy wasn't surprised when she broke free and began to pace across a small spot, trembling.

"What am I going to do?" she said aloud, rhetorically, wishing that the answer would appear and she could simply grasp it and know that it was right.

"Tell him."

"Tell him? I'm not going to use this baby to make him stay. I couldn't do that."

"You need to tell your husband. It wouldn't be making him stay if you simply would tell him. He might not say it, but I think he must love you much more than you think if you two have been together even after the time requirement has passed. Go back to your hotel tonight, and find a way to tell him the truth. Don't just stop there, though. I can tell you've got more on your mind, and you won't be able to solve anything if you don't say it aloud."

Laura almost laughed. "You have an answer for everything, don't you?"

"I'd like to think so."

"Don't go getting a big head," she added, relieved to have someone backing her up.

"Me? Never. Now, how about we go have some dessert?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Remington was very nearly to the point of calling the case quits. There was nothing at all to suggest that Ellie's husband had been murdered by his ex-business partner. In fact, the more digging he did, the more the evidence suggested that Mrs. Graves had been involved in the death of her husband. Through a few interviews he'd conducted earlier in the day, Remington learned that Mr. Graves had taken out a life insurance policy worth well over half a million dollars and the Mrs. was the sole beneficiary. Barring that, there was also the fact that the two had been separated and at the brink of divorce when the man was murdered, and the pre-nuptial they'd signed didn't entitle Mrs. Graves to anything but a tiny fraction of the billions the couple held. However, it was all circumstantial, nothing proving her guilt straight out, so Remington decided to hold off on any further research into Ellie Graves.

"Hello there, Mr. Steele," a voice cut clearly from the open doorway of the hotel room. "How is the case going?"

"It's going fine, although there's quite a bit of work left to do," he said, clearing his throat suggestively so that she might get the message.

Apparently though, she didn't. Ellie entered and crossed the room to where he sat on the bed. He managed to shove the papers pertaining to the case into a folder before Ellie could see them, but as he suspected, she wanted very little to do with the case itself.

"That's alright. I have faith in you."

"Ah, that's good to know," he said uncomfortably. "If you'll forgive me, I should be getting back to this."

"Oh, you can get to it later. I wouldn't be mad if you decided you needed a break away from this mess. Honestly, I don't believe there's going to be a way to prove that James actually murdered Richard."

Remington watched as she tilted her head towards him, expecting a reply. "Well, if my wife and I are given the chance to work the case long enough, I'm sure we'll find out who killed your husband."

"Take a break. Come have dinner with me," she said, grinning.

"Actually, I was going to wait for Laura so that we could have dinner together."

"I'm sure your wife wouldn't mind."

Remington stood, stretching as he contemplated his choices. "Even so, I'll just wait here. Perhaps we could both join you for dinner in the restaurant later."

Ellie stood as well, smoothing her dress as she looked at the man standing in front of her. Without warning, the widow leaned towards Remington and placed her hands around his neck, drawing his face to hers for a seductive kiss.

At the same time, Laura was striding down the hallway, fully intending to tell Remington everything that needed to be spoken between them. When she reached their room, she began to dig out the key, only to notice that the door was slightly ajar. Pushing it open just a bit, Laura peeked in and caught sight of Ellie Graves and Remington kissing, and nimbly, she pulled the door back into the position it had been in. She stood for a moment, shocked and scalded from the door's touch, before she turned and ran down the hallway, down the stairs, and out through the lobby doors into the cool air. Gasping for breath, she hunched over and heaved, imagining exactly what else was going on upstairs.

Meanwhile, no flush of embarrassment crept onto Ellie's cheeks as she stood in the same spot Remington had just pushed her into. In fact, the woman seemed quite pleased with herself. "Is something wrong?" she asked innocently.

"That was completely inappropriate. Besides the fact that you are a client of my firm, I am also married, and I love my wife very much." The room's silence suddenly buzzed in his ears. "I think it would be better if we resigned the case and you got someone else to investigate."

"I suppose you're right," she murmured. The woman looked quite lost, as though she was not used to being told no, as she frowned, turned heel, and left the room.

When she was gone, Remington breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't realized it until that moment, but all he wanted was to have Laura come back to the room so that he could tell her everything and let her know that she was the one he wanted for life. He rubbed his eyes and decided it would be a while before Laura came back from Murphy's. After all, they were friends who hadn't seen each other in a very long time. To pass the time, he decided to go down to the indoor swimming pool and do a few laps. Then he would be back up to have dinner with his wife so that they could talk.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Stricken, Laura hailed a cab from under the darkness of the hotel's shadow. The backseat was humid and dark, and the cabby didn't speak much after she told him to simply drive around for a little while because she wasn't sure of where to go.

"Lady like you should be home with her husband and kids on a night like tonight," he said in passing.

Laura didn't respond. She didn't want to go to Murphy's to be soothed, and she didn't want advice from the driver, who looked like he didn't quite belong to his own life let alone anyone else's. Instead, she needed the time in the backseat to think without another's presence within those thoughts. Every time her thoughts were aimed in one direction, everything took a turn, and she was standing outside the hotel room, watching the scene unfold, her heart breaking a little more each time. Even when Wilson left and confirmed her worst beliefs about men, she hadn't felt so betrayed and hollowed as she did at the moment. Wilson's leaving caused her to lose a part of her personality that was linked to him, but it hadn't reached the innermost place inside her that was aching right at that moment.

She began to rock back and forth as the tears came, silent sobs wrenching her back and forth with the hum of the cab's engine. She wrapped her arms around her middle, wanting to hold on for life's promise; just to never let go of what she feared were now only distant memories of a marriage and what she had hoped was love. But dread sunk deep and overrode the sweet memories she had retained, and convinced her that her fears were correct. A wild sense of that same fear gripped at her, and she hit at the driver, motioning him to pull over so that she could again vomit, but there was nothing, only dry heaves that refused to stop.

When they could go again, the man asked her if she was alright, and if a trip to the hospital was necessary. She shook her head violently, hoping he wouldn't continue to push and cause her to explain, but he didn't say anything more, just turned the corner and drove steadily on. Staring out the window, she watched the scenery go by until it all became just one blur, and her mind turned back to the thoughts she'd had just a few minutes before. What would she do? She couldn't take it if he told her that he was leaving. She knew that if he left her, she would never be able to face that, and that, therefore, could never happen. But neither would she use the baby she carried to make him stay. She wouldn't allow the baby to be the determining factor in their marriage, the one thing that had caused him to stay or the one thing that made him run. In every case she had ever seen, things like that only caused more damage in the long run, and she vowed then and there that she would never allow her child to know hurt like what she'd known. No, she wouldn't sink to that level.

Then what was she to do? Laura felt the tears spring up again, and took a calming breath to force them away. She didn't want to be the one left alone in the hotel room they'd shared, wondering what would become of her and the baby. If he felt like he wanted out, then Laura wouldn't be the one to stop him. She couldn't be that person, didn't want to be that person. Instead, she'd bow out gracefully. He didn't need to know that he had a child because that would only result in disaster, and she was sure that if she could handle being a female dick then she could handle single parenting. He would be free to go about, never having known that he was the one for Laura, the only man in the entire world that she had fallen in love with. She would go back to LA alone, split the agency, draw up divorce papers, and send him on his way. She wouldn't deny that she loved him now, but she simply acknowledged her love for him as one-sided. That was that.

"Could you take me back to the hotel now?" she asked in a quiet voice, with dried salt on her cheeks from the tears.

"Sure, lady. You need anything else?"

Again, she shook her head. "I just need to go back."

The ride back was short and uninterrupted. Her destination reached, she pulled out the money she had with her and paid him in full with a handsome tip for keeping quiet when she needed the quiet most. As she trudged up the stairs to the room, she pulled forth all the strength she had so that if he was there, she could leave knowing that even if he disagreed, she would handle it.

She put on a cold façade, preparing herself to explain things briefly before packing up and leaving, but Remington was no longer in the room, and neither was Mrs. Graves. Laura packed quickly and efficiently, stuffing her things back into her suitcase and jamming it closed so she could zipper it shut. It was only when she had finished gathering everything and packing it all away that Remington entered the room. Glancing at her oddly, he said, "What are you doing?"

When she only looked at him for a moment, then turned away to drag the suitcase to the door, his stomach dropped and a heavy feeling replaced it. "I'm leaving."

"Nice of you to tell me that we were leaving," he commented as he sat on the edge of the bed, hoping her next reply would squash the inkling he had.

"We aren't. I am." She faced him as she stood next to the door. "You can stay. If you plan to stay here for a long time, let Mildred know. I'll have her send you the papers and the money."

"What papers? And what money?"

"Divorce papers, and the money from the sale," she replied, trying to seem calm. "I'll compensate Mildred and Gina accordingly."

"What the bloody hell is going on?" he finally exploded.

Laura turned on him icily. "I'm leaving you, and I'm done with the agency. I'm moving on. I suggest you do the same."

In all the times he'd seen Laura mad, Remington had never known her to act as coldly as she was at the moment. A split second later, she had both suitcases in her hands and was out the door. He stood, confused for a moment, then ran down the hall after her. "I don't understand," he said, hoping that he'd get through to her.

She stopped at the elevator to wait, and faced him again. "Then I'll spell things out for you. I'm leaving, because you are now free to legally stay in the U.S. without a wife to pull you down."

"Laura, you...I'm not being pulled down," he said in disbelief. The elevator doors shifted open, and Laura stepped in, facing Remington for the few seconds before the doors closed.

"You and I both know that's not true." The doors closed, and he stood, breathing hard in the silence for just a minute before he went for the stairs, hoping to catch her in the lobby. But it was too late; Laura was already in a cab that was barreling down the street, her back to him so that he couldn't see the stifled tears falling, caught only in her lap.

He was breathing heavier still as he stood in the doorway to the hotel's lobby, looking after the cab, wondering if he had imagined their marriage. Had she really been that unhappy with him that she had to make up a lie about his feeling tied down so she could leave? He didn't know. Maybe she had never loved him as he loved her, and she simply didn't want to break that to him. Whatever it was, she was gone, and he had the sinking feeling that no amount of calling and following and talking could change that. So instead of going after her, he wearily headed back to the elevator, pressed the button to the floor he needed, and closed the door to the room for the night so that he could be tortured in silence.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Laura kept her promise and broke apart the agency, gave Mildred and Gina fabulous severance packages, and had Mildred forward both the divorce papers and the money from the agency to Remington. And that was that.


	10. Chapter 10

****

9

Present

Much to her amazement, when Laura woke in her own bed hours later, her mind was clearer and she felt as if a small weight had been lifted from her chest. She'd slept past the quiet alarm, and, looking at the clock, she noted the exact time was six thirty a.m.

Crawling from the bed already less drowsy, she felt the dull ache pulling at her chest when she realized there was no need to hurry and get breakfast for the kids. It was the only meal of the day she fixed, which was usually cereal or pop-tarts anyway, she wryly observed. Patricia babysat during the summer, arrived promptly after breakfast, served lunch, prepared dinner for all three, and left for the evening only to do it all over again the next morning. Laura ought to call her and let her know she wouldn't be needed today either, she thought, making a mental note to do that after a quick shower and a cup of coffee.

Deciding to forego the latter for want of the former, Laura grabbed a fresh, cornflower blue towel from the rack and headed towards the bathroom on the upper level of the house. As the warmth of the water hit her, she instantly relaxed and tried to enjoy the feeling she knew wouldn't last long. When she was done, the bathroom quiet, Laura quickly threw a sweatshirt advertising the public school both Gracie and Luke went to over her head. Then she slipped on a pair of pants and started to leave the damp, foggy room, but it felt as though it was in slow motion.

Biting her lip, the dull ache grew as she leaned hard against the sink until her legs gave and she ended up on the floor's wet rug. Laura tilted her head to the side, squeezing her eyelids shut to keep the tears that threatened out. Her breathing became shallow as she put one hand over her heart and used the other to support it, as if it needed its own support system to keep it from falling over lifelessly. Laura's eyes still closed, the only sound she could hear was that of the voice inside her head, bringing to the surface every transgression she'd ever committed, the biggest, keeping Gracie from Him. And the only thing that she could think after that was that because of her mistakes, they might never meet.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Downstairs, Harry wandered into the kitchen and scoured the cabinets and countertops for ingredients for tea. Finding none, he settled for a caffeinated beverage that would hopefully calm his nerves and help him to shake off the unkempt, tired feeling he had after being up the entire night long. But it would all be worth it, he thought, when he was able to pinpoint the exact location Sean and Gracie were at. He was a fingertip's length away, and he could feel it right out of his reach.

Back in the living room, Harry booted up Laura's laptop and pulled up the file he'd created sometime before his third cup of coffee during the night. As he sifted through what he'd written, he couldn't help but wonder what he wasn't seeing. There just had to be something else, something that didn't fit, because he'd tried every possible angle there was. Sighing, he started over and began to look again.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was only seven a.m., but Luke was already awake. He never told anybody, but he was always up early, unlike his sister who stayed in bed, fully asleep, until the very last second. The child looked around, realizing that he was in his room at his dad's house. He didn't like his dad's new house or, for that matter, his dad's new girlfriend. His parents had told him about the separation, what it meant, how it had nothing to do with him, and how they still both loved him. Gracie had explained it to him too and she had told him that they would probably get a divorce. He wished they had never gotten different houses, but he understood the best a seven-year-old could.

He woke up remembering about Gracie. His dad didn't seem very worried about Gracie, but Luke was scared. The wiry little boy was afraid his older sister wasn't coming back. But she would have to, he thought, cause she forgot her sketchbook. Climbing from underneath the green down comforter that was covered with airplanes, Luke slid onto the floor and went to the closed door of his bedroom. He rubbed his drowsy gray eyes and pulled up the thermal white and yellow pajamas that were a size too big, courtesy of his father. Strands of his dusky brown hair stuck straight up, adding a much-needed inch to his already small frame.

It was quiet morning; nothing made even the slightest sound, the halls and rooms were dark, and everything suggested that he was the only person in the house awake. His dad and Emmy's room was on the other side of the house and his dad's office was in the next room over. He started towards there while remembering a fight his dad and Emmy had had a while before about his dad's office. He had heard his father saying that he wasn't even divorced yet and already Emmy had her mind set on children and marriage. Emmy had wanted to turn the office into a nursery for a baby.

As Luke drew closer, he heard his father's voice and realized his father had probably been up for some time. Maybe he made chocolate chip pancakes for me, Luke thought, then felt quite guilty because his dad's pancakes were Gracie's favorite breakfast in the whole world. The door was cracked just a tiny bit, so Luke peered in at his father. He was sitting at the wooden desk, tapping the fingers impatiently on one hand and using the other to keep the phone pressed up against his ear. Luke decided to wait until his dad got off the phone to go in, so he sat on the carpet cross-legged and listened. However, the conversation caught his attention when he heard his sister's name uttered angrily.

"Sean, we _agreed_ that you would only keep Gracie for a few days and then let me bring her home!" Michael spoke in a wrathful voice. "He wasn't supposed to come here and help Laura and she wasn't supposed to know about you! God dammit, I was supposed to bring Gracie back and look like the hero! How the hell am I supposed to do that now?"

Michael listened for a second, then yelled into the phone, "Bring her back here today! Get out of my cabin or I'm going to come get you and her myself!"

Furiously, the man slammed the phone down and put his head in his hands. For a few moments, Luke was too frightened to move. The boy bit his lip, trying not to cry. He began to shiver furiously and bit down even harder so that his teeth wouldn't shatter and give him away. Slowly, as silently as possible, he crawled from his cross-legged position and dashed down the padded hallway. When he reached his room, out of breath, he threw the covers over his shuddering body and tried to think about what to do.

In his seven-year-old mind, Luke began to formulate a plan. He'd just about finished when Michael tapped lightly on the door and entered. "Hey bud, you awake?"

Yawning, he pulled the covers down and looked up at his father, eyes wide. His mind knew perfectly well that his father had taken Gracie and that he couldn't be trusted, but his heart was having trouble. After all, the man was still his beloved daddy, and even dads make mistakes. But he would have to sort it out later, he reminded himself as Michael said, "How would you like to spend the day with Emmy? I have some things I have to do for work," he said gently, as though he hadn't just helped kidnap his own stepdaughter.

"Well, could I go home to mommy instead?" he asked in a small voice.

Michael hesitated; he had wanted Luke with him for a reason. If things with Sean went awry, he'd still have Luke. But he had chosen Gracie over Luke for several reasons, of which the most important was that he'd always suspected that because Gracie was Harry's daughter, Laura had a special spot for Gracie that didn't exist for Luke. He frowned, looking down first at his perfectly tailored suit, then at his young son, and in that moment, he decided. "Sure. Just let me call mom and I'll have Emmy drop you off in about half an hour."

He turned to leave, then as an afterthought, he said, "Why don't you get dressed and start packing?"

Luke was silent and unmoving. After his father was gone, he still sat, confused and shaking. Was it true? Was he supposed to tell? Who would he tell? The child rocked back and forth from the same spot where he sat, his stomach dangerously close to heaving upwards. Emmy pushed the door open with her foot a moment later, telling him they would leave in ten minutes. Then she was gone, and he pushed his way up, moving to the closet to gather his things from the night before.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Laura came down the stairs with damp hair framing her perturbed face. "Michael called a little while ago. He's going to bring Luke back here."

"Is that smart?" Harry asked, looking up from the laptop.

"He said that Luke wanted to come home. What was I supposed to do?"

"Okay." Taking a deep breath, he said, "I went over it again. Nothing."

Laura closed her eyes and leaned into the cushions of the couch, where she felt safe as she had when she was younger. "Do you want something to eat?" she asked.

Despite the dire situation, he chuckled. "Not if you're making it."

She opened her eyes to glare at him. "I have cereal."

"Why don't you take over, see if there's something I missed. I'll go make something."

A few minutes later, Harry was scrounging through the well-stocked cabinets and refrigerator for ingredients for omelets. He set the things he needed on the cutting board and lit the stove with a frying pan over the first burner. He reached into one of the wooden cabinets overhead and pulled from it a glass bowl, which he'd discovered earlier. From a silverware drawer, he pulled a Wisk, and then began to crack eggs into the bowl. To his surprise, when he looked up from doing so, he saw Laura leaning silently against the counter. He had the feeling that she didn't want to be alone with her thoughts any longer. He didn't say anything, figured the silence was comfortable enough to leave it be, so he continued to fix breakfast for them both.

A boisterous knock pulled Laura from the kitchen and into the living room again, where Emmy stood with Luke's bag wrapped around her shoulder and her hand on Luke's head. Luke hurtled himself at his mother's legs, wrapping his body into her hug. His voice was muffled when he told her that he missed Gracie and his hands were quick as he took his overnight bag from Emmy. "Bye," he called as Emmy turned to leave.

"Kiddo, there's a friend of mine here that I want you to meet. His name is Harry."

"Mom," he said as he pulled from her embrace, "I got to tell you something."

"What?" she asked as she dropped his bag on the couch and led him into the kitchen.

Luke stopped and stared as Harry turned to reach for the spatula, forgetting for a brief moment the message he brought. "Are you helping my mom find Gracie?" he blurted out.

"Yes," he answered evenly, without pause as he flipped the omelet and put it on a plate.

"Luke, why don't you go put your bag away? Are you hungry?"

Luke looked behind him as he walked towards the living room. "Yeah, dad and me didn't have breakfast, and Emmy didn't ask."

When Luke was out of hearing range, Laura turned back to Harry as he handed her a plate and fork. "He knows that Michael isn't her father. Don't tell him that you are, please?"

He nodded. "What does he like for breakfast?"

"He can have cereal. I'm going to take this in there so I look the stuff over again."

Harry didn't follow. Instead, he began to pull out the ingredients for pancakes with a few extras. When he glanced up, Luke was standing before the tiled countertop. "How come you haven't found her yet?" Luke asked as he pulled himself up on the stool. 

He looked down at the boy's innocent face staring him in the eyes, and he answered honestly, "I don't know."

"Can I help?"

"Sure. Grab that spoon."

"No. I mean, I want to help you find Gracie," he said with quiet insistence.

"Do you like pancakes?"

"Chocolate chip ones. They're Gracie's favorites too. I can help. I know stuff."

"Chocolate chip it is. What kind of stuff do you know?"

"I know where she is."

Startled, Harry glanced up, dropping the eggshell he held in his hand. He reached down to pick it up off the tile, tossed it in the garbage, and looked back at Luke. "How do you know where she is?"

"I...my dad took her. He's mad at my mom. He wouldn't hurt her," Luke rushed to say.

"You mean Michael?" He frowned. "I don't mean to sound like I don't trust you, Luke, but I don't think..."

"No, he did. I heard him this morning. He was talking to somebody on the phone and he didn't know I woke up, but I heard him! I heard him and he said that he was supposed to bring Gracie back, but whoever he was talking to wouldn't, and my dad was going to be the hero. He said," Luke insisted, leaning forward and pushing on his wiry elbows, his gray eyes flashing.

Suddenly, Harry saw the missing piece. "Was the person he talked to named Sean?"

"Yeah, he told Sean that if he didn't bring her back, he would go get them."

"Luke, do you know where Gracie is?"

"My dad said that Sean should get out of his cabin or he was going to go get him, but Sean wouldn't, cause dad got really, really mad."

It made sense. That was all Harry could think. But how would Michael know enough about him, his past? Michael must have been digging for several years if he had come up with Sean. He looked down at Luke as he finished pouring the batter onto the griddle, then up when he heard a squeak, indicating to him that Laura was standing in the doorway, listening in. "Laura." It came out as a quiet remark.

She jerked herself from the wooden frame and walked over behind her son. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she hugged him to her, cold and shivering inside at the thought. "Luke, why don't you go put away your clothes and then come back for your pancakes?"

He slipped off the stool and didn't look back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The walls of the basement room seemed as though they had rough pieces of drab carpet nailed to them, though several pieces had worked their way free. That was how Gracie had discovered the boarded up crawl space that had been covered by a burnt red piece of carpeting. Fingering a woven strand that had worked itself free, she had ripped a chunk of it along the seams on accident and discovered the space. Carefully she pulled the boarding from where it latched into the wall and opened it to reveal a dark and musty hole. Gracie took a deep breath and convinced herself that there would be nothing to fear inside. The girl leaned in, trying to catch a glimpse of anything, but all was covered in a layer of darkness.

She let the deep breath out as she pulled her head out and contemplated her immediate choices. If she was to go anywhere in the crawl space, she knew she needed to find out where it led, and she couldn't make her move until it became light outside or until the man came down. She didn't want him to come down while she was anywhere close by. Gracie leaned inwards again and tried to let her eyes adjust to the abrupt blackness, but it was to no avail. Sighing, she wondered if the old man knew about the space. "He couldn't," she muttered out loud.

Sean hadn't been down yet, and Gracie reluctantly left the crawl space, covering it with the carpet again, to wait for him on the bed. Perhaps he would bring breakfast, she thought, as her stomach growled ferociously. She placed the cuff back onto her wrist, leaving it slightly ajar so when the time came to leave, she could slip out of it easier. Then she settled, content to think only of a hot breakfast waiting for her back home.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I want to apologize for not updating this story for such a long time. A lot of stuff happened in the past year that kept me from writing, but I finally found the time to finish. I really appreciate the reviews, and I hope the last chapter doesn't disappoint. Please review and tell me what you think of it. 

10

"You heard," Harry stated in a hushed tone.

"Kind of hard not to. I've been to the cabin before. It isn't too far. I'm going to call Mildred to watch Luke for me so we can go. He doesn't need to see this," she said easily.

"Laura, are you okay?"

"Fine. I mean, my eleven-year-old is missing and it turns out that my husband is partly behind her disappearance, although I'm not exactly sure why, so why wouldn't I be fine? It's probably because...well," Laura bit her lip. She'd come very close to telling him that at best, she figured the reason Michael had hauled off and done something completely crazy and out of character was that Michael knew she would always be more in love with Harry than she had ever been with him. "Never mind. Let's just...let's just go."

Turning, Laura went barefoot to the cordless phone and dialed Mildred's number. After she'd arranged to drop Luke off at Mildred's house within the next half hour, she pulled on a pair of tennis shoes and ran upstairs to both check on Luke and run a comb through her nearly dry hair. "Luke, buddy, my friend and I are going to drop you off at Mildred's house in a few minutes. So put your shoes back on again, okay?"

"Are you and him going to go get Gracie?" he asked as he stared up at Laura, his eyes framed by bits and pieces of hair.

"Yes. We're going to go get your sister. Be good for Mildred, will you?"

"Is daddy going to get in trouble because he took Gracie away?"

"I don't know what's going to happen. I just know that everything is going to be fine, alright?"

Meanwhile, downstairs, Harry finished the pancakes and stowed them on a plate in the microwave. He left the dishes in a heap in the sink and proceeded to dry his hands, then called up the stairs after Laura and Luke. Fishing the keys from the pocket of his jacket, he opened the front door to radiant sunlight over the horizon and stepped out onto the porch to wait for the pair. "Let's go," Laura said as she gently pushed Luke out the door in front of her. "I'll drive."

Instead of arguing, he slipped the keys back into his pocket and said, "Fine."

A short time later, Luke was handed safely into Mildred's custody with the promise from Harry that he would be back to visit after Gracie was safe. "So how far is the cabin from here?" he asked after the two were alone in the car.

The highway was bare but for a few cars out as early as eight a.m. "About twenty more minutes," she said as she flipped the radio knob to the 'on' position. The car was filled with the hum of light music and advertisings underneath the uncomfortable silence.

"So I suppose now is as good a time as any," he said casually, glancing over at her to gauge her reaction.

"For what?"

"For a talk."

"I don't really feel like talking right now," she answered uneasily as she glanced at him through her peripheral.

"Well, you have to speak with me at some point, and you seem to be free for the next twenty minutes. I want to know why you left and why you never bothered to tell me I had a daughter."

Her body tensed up, but her hands held steady as they guided the car along the stretch of highway. "That was a decision I was forced to make. I don't want to talk about it."

"You don't want to talk about it? Well that's too bloody bad. You owe it to me to tell me. I mean, after all, I have missed out on eleven years of my daughter's life, years that I got to spend wondering why the hell you just up and left me with no explanations. Did you hate being married to me that much? Were you still in love with someone else? Or did you just decide that you didn't want to share our child with me?"

Suddenly spitfire, she yelled back. "How do you not know?"

"That's just it; I don't know because you won't tell me!"

"How do you not know? You kissed and did God knows what else with another woman while we were married, for starters. I would have understood had you asked for a divorce when the two years were up, but you had to drag it out and then humiliate me by sleeping with a client! Instead, you just slept with that client." Finished, fuming, queasy, and near to tears, Laura pushed the gas pedal down further and drove.

Harry was silent after her outburst. Then, "I didn't sleep with that client, Laura. I never even knew that you had seen her kiss me." Suddenly, it dawned on him. "You left because you thought I was cheating on you? Laura, I swear I didn't sleep with Ellie Graves. The second after she kissed me, I pushed her away and told her that I was happily married. I don't know why you would have thought differently."

Stunned, Laura wasn't quite ready to admit fault about her decisions. "Because you married me only to get a green card. Our marriage wasn't built on trust and love, it was built on lies."

"Is that what you think? Laura, the only reason I didn't want to marry you was because I was afraid that it would ruin whatever we had going for us. But once we were married, I knew that it was the best thing I'd ever done. I might not have been able to tell you then, but I can tell you now that I loved you and probably am still in love with you now. I spent all those years believing that you had left because you didn't love me the same way. I didn't know that you were pregnant when you left, or I most definitely would have come after you. The only reason I didn't was because I didn't think it was fair of me to come after you if you didn't want to be with me," he finished softly.

Laura, still reeling, took a steadying breath and put the turn signal on before she turned onto a gravel road. Had she been able to, she probably would have placed her hands over her face and sat down to think things out while having a good, long cry to ease the guilty feeling in the pit of her stomach. "That was exactly what I didn't want; I knew that if you knew, we would have to stay together for our child's sake, and that would have been wrong. I made my decision, and it might not have been right, but it was what I thought was right at the time."

"But you had no right to keep her from me for that long. Can't you see that? It was my right to decide whether I wanted a part in her life!" he said angrily.

"At that time, she was inside me, and I just wanted to protect her. Can't _you_ see that? I know now that it wasn't right, but I still thought that you wanted out, and if you wanted away from a marriage between us, then you most certainly wouldn't want a baby. I just didn't want to hurt her!"

After her last remark, Laura was left wondering whether or not she had been so correct in doing as she did. He had loved her, and more shocking, had said he was probably still in love with her. She avoided looking over at the man and continued down the road until she came to the entrance of the logging road. She pulled the car to a stop and pushed the hair back from her face, over the top of her head. "I think we should finish this later," she finally spoke, her eyes downcast as she opened the door of the vehicle and stepped down onto rocks and twigs.

"You're probably right. Let's just get Gracie and call the police," Harry said, his voice restrained now. "I'll call. Which way to the cabin?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once she finished the light breakfast of buttered toast and juice that Sean had brought her, Gracie sat quietly on the bed, trying to gather enough courage to enter the hole in the wall. After all, she reasoned with herself, the worst that could happen would be that it went nowhere and she was left to sit in the dark. At least that way, the man couldn't find her and she would be safe until Harry arrived. Unclasping her hands from the handcuffs, she tried to calm herself. She could do it.

A sudden sound from the upstairs made Gracie whip her head towards the ceiling. She heard a muffled explosion, quite like that of a door slamming, and then she heard voices. "Where is she, Sean?" she heard, and to her amazement, realized it was her stepfather's voice. "I told you that if you didn't get out, I would come up to get her. We agreed, and you can't back out now!"

Gracie sniffled and was frightened. Michael was helping that man keep her here? She wasn't sure what to believe, but she was sure that when she again heard Michael yell for her, she ought to stay quiet. Dashing from the bed, she ran over to the carpeted wall and yanked the covering off. Gracie was sure that it was light out now, and that she had no time to waste. Pulling off the boarding, she stepped onto a box and then carefully slipped her legs into the crawl space. Her feet hit the ground at the same height the floor had been, and quickly, she reached for the carpet so that she could slide it back into place. When the board was as close to the spot as she could push it, Gracie groped around, hoping to feel a switch on the walls.

Finding nothing in the darkness but a smell that assaulted her nostrils, Gracie slid her foot along the floor for about a foot. "I'm okay," she reassured herself aloud. The crawl space was silent as she placed her hands on the walls opposite each other and found them to be dry. She carefully slid her other foot about the same distance, and when she didn't hit anything, she decided it was safe to keep going.

After travelling a few more feet, she could no longer hear the voices of her stepfather and the man. Unsure as to whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, Gracie simply made it her mission to keep moving in hope of finding safety. Steadily moving, it was a few minutes before Gracie hit a bump and almost tripped, placing her hands in front of her to break the fall. But instead of falling, her hands hit a solid, preventing her fall and adding to her curiosity and fear. Taking a deep breath, the child felt around, only to discover that it was entirely solid no matter where she placed her hands. Then, as she moved her right hand downwards, sweeping the matter with cautious hands, she found what she perceived to be a turn in the walls. Smiling despite her fear, Gracie felt along the wall with her hands and felt her body do a ninety-degree turn into more of the same.

As her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, Gracie felt the space curve around again with her hands until she came face to face with another solid. This time, however, there was no turn to make. Instead, as her hands groped in desperate fear, she found a knob and began breathing rapidly with the hope that she had found a door to somewhere other than the basement. As she turned the knob, her eyes suddenly gazed upon luminous rays of sun hitting the trees and other shrubbery, and to her delight, she found herself breathing in fresh, morning air.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The dirt-trodden path was covered with chalky pebbles that crunched underneath Laura's feet. She listened intently, both apprehensive and hopeful that she would hear something, some indication that Gracie was near, but nothing came. Instead, she only heard the rocks underfoot, the sound of her own clipped breathing, and the thoughts echoing in her head, bouncing around in confusion. Harry's words kept coming back to her, plaguing her conscience, whispering that if she'd only spoken up, Gracie wouldn't be suffering. But would everyone have been better off? Would everything have worked itself out? There was no way to know. Frustrated with her own lack of answers, she revisited the thoughts she'd had immediately after learning of Michael's role in Gracie's kidnapping. No matter what, there would never be any understanding for that. She would never be able to give Michael complete forgiveness for doing such a thing, or look at him again without a contempt deep down inside her.

The trail wasn't rough, or hard to follow, but it was long, nonetheless, and Laura had nothing to keep her company except her thoughts. Harry was close behind her, so close that she could nearly feel his hand on hers as they strode down the path together. That in itself was making her jumpy in a way she had never felt with Michael. Stop it, she told herself. She would sort everything out later, after Gracie was safe and in her arms again. Until then, she would just have to forget how badly she'd screwed everything up and focus on getting her daughter back.

Meanwhile, Harry was observing the scenery. It was certainly a private area, which meant that Gracie could scream all night and day without being heard by another soul. That made sense to him. What didn't make any sense, however, was why Michael would be an accomplice in his own stepdaughter's kidnapping. Thinking back to his and Luke's rushed conversation just a few hours earlier, he recalled Luke saying that Michael had wanted to be the hero. Whose hero? Laura's? Why would Michael need to save his own stepdaughter to be seen as a hero? But the more Harry considered it, the more it seemed plausible. The two were separated, and Laura wanted a divorce. Maybe Michael thought that if he could rescue Gracie, Laura would be grateful, grateful enough to let him move back in and forget the marital problems they'd had, whatever they were. It was ridiculous, but Michael must have been desperate and obsessive if he'd gone to such great lengths to get Laura's love. Of course, Harry thought, it wasn't ridiculous to want Laura's love, it was only ridiculous to go about it the way Michael had.

Then, as Laura continued at her own fast pace, a sudden sound from off to the side stopped her abruptly. Laura whipped her head around and put a finger to her lips to keep Harry from asking her what she was doing. "Mom?" Gracie spoke in a feeble voice.

Laura looked, and in an instant, Gracie popped up from behind a bush and stood, only for a moment, before she leapt into Laura's embrace. She clutched the pre-teen to her, relief, gratefulness, and wonder pouring from her as Gracie began sob, quiet sobs that pulled at Laura's heart. "Gracie girl, are you okay? Do you hurt? Is anything wrong?"

Pulling back far enough to see her mother's face, Gracie shook her head. Laura's hands found their way to Gracie's cheeks, and she smoothed her fingers over the wet skin on those cheeks. "What happened?"

The girl's gentle face peered into her mother's as she uttered without taking a breath, "I found a crawl space in the wall and he didn't know it was there, but it was, and it was so dark and smelly, but I tried to be brave and I thought about that song, mom, that one song? I heard Michael's voice, and they were arguing, and they didn't know I got out, but I turned all around until I found this door, and when I opened it, I was outside, and I just started running." Pausing for a breath, Gracie finally looked past her mother's face to see Harry staring intently at her, and she hiccuped in surprise.

Taken back at the similarities, Harry couldn't help but stare at the girl. He didn't move as Gracie freed herself from her mother's grasp and gazed upon him, taking in everything. "Are you him? Harry?" she asked, observing him intently.

He nodded, slowly at first, then vigorously. "I am."

She smiled through her tears, then, and was at a loss. She wanted to thank him, and say that she had always wanted to meet him, but the words were stuck in her throat, and they just wouldn't come. Laura hugged her from behind, and Gracie turned suddenly, saying, "Mom. Mom, we have to go back. I heard them, that man and Michael, and they were arguing, and Michael was really steamed. Mom, why was Michael there?"

"We'll talk about it later. Right now, we need to get to the cabin and wait for the police to get there." 

"I think you two should wait here," Harry interjected.

Laura got the same look she'd always worn before when she was irritated, and said, "No. It's safer if the both of us are there."

"And what about Gracie? Do you want to risk her getting hurt?"

"No, of course not. Gracie can wait outside. Now, let's stop wasting time."

Taking her daughter's hand, Laura grinned at Harry despite wet eyes, took a breath, and charged down the path with her daughter and Harry close.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The two men faced off, each living what he perceived to be an injustice, one, a daughter's murder, the other, a wife's love for another man. Michael still stood in the front hall of his cabin, staring at the older man's wrinkled skin and blue eyes with hatred. "Where is she, Sean? I told you that if you didn't get out, I would come up to get her. We agreed, and you can't back out now! Don't you get it? It's my turn. You had your revenge. You got to make the man suffer. Good God, you got to tell him he even had a daughter. You're finished. I want my stepdaughter. Where's Gracie?"

"You think that 'olding 'is daughter for this little bit is revenge for my little lass? Sadly mistaken, you are. I'm not letting this chance slip past me. I'll get my revenge yet." Sean shot him a menacing glare as he blocked off the rest of the cabin.

"You know what's funny, old man?" Michael taunted him viciously. "I talked to a few buddies of yours from the old days. I guess I got curious as to what really happened. You want the truth? The truth is that Harry wasn't the one who murdered your daughter or took your things. It was those card-playing buddies of yours. They raped your daughter and stabbed her to death, and I have it on good authority that Harry was in the wrong place at the wrong time. So you were mistaken all these years. Now, where's Gracie?" he ordered.

Sean's breathing became unsteady as he leaned on his cane for support. "No, it couldn't 'ave been them...they wouldn't...they loved her." Thinking back to the horrible night in question, Sean began to put the pieces in place as his stomach clenched and his throat became constricted. He hunched over for a moment, in which Michael shoved the stunned and feeble man and lurched past him towards the other rooms in the cabin.

"Gracie? Gracie, it's Michael," he yelled. When he reached the basement door, he opened it and peered down the stairs. Spotting the cot, he hurried down the stairs, but found the room empty. The emptiness swirled around him as he discovered her missing, and he skipped a few stairs on the way back up. In a fit of rage, he grabbed a cutting knife that he normally used when he fished, and he went toward the doubled over old man on the floor. Sean looked up to see Michael, and crawled to a chest, which he used to help his aching body up onto his feet.

"Michael, give it up," he said. "It's done. We're wrong," he said finally.

"She isn't downstairs. Where did you put her?" Michael asked, seething.

Sean's surprise showed upon his face. "She's got to be. She was 'andcuffed to the bed."

"She isn't! Did you do something with her? Did you hurt her?"

"No, I swear the lass was there just a few minutes ago!"

Michael shook his head. Then, he rushed forward with the knife, aiming it straight for Sean's chest, intent on ramming it into him to unleash all his anger. Sean saw it coming, and despite his dependency on his cane, he let it drop and steadied himself. Grabbing onto Michael's wrist, he held the knife away from his own chest and pushed it towards the wall. The movement caught both men off balance, and they toppled to the floor, with the knife still in Michael's hand.

Laura and Harry burst through the door, followed by Gracie behind the two of them. They caught sight of Michael trying to attack Sean, and quickly, Harry was able to pull Sean from the pile the two men were in on the floor. He spied the blood almost immediately and asked, "Where are you hurt?"

"It isn't me, 'arry," Sean answered gravely after he touched the stain on his shirt.

Looking back on the floor, all three adults saw that the blood was coming from the knife wound on Michael's chest. Sean turned away and limped toward the kitchen table, in need of something to hang onto. Laura pushed Gracie away so that she would be spared the scene, and Harry took hold of her shoulders and led her out into the fresh air before returning to Sean, leaving Laura to lean over Michael's side.

It was plain to see that Michael's wound was fatal. Motioning for Laura to lean closer to him, Michael spoke haltingly and painfully. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm...so sorry, Laura." Groaning, he tried to move, but Laura held him still and applied pressure to the wound, in hopes of stopping the profuse bleeding.

"Shh," she said. "I know you are."

"No, you...you don't understand. I only did it..."

"Michael, the police are on their way. They'll get you to a hospital," she said, though they could both tell help wouldn't arrive in time. In that moment, Laura looked upon him gently, forgetting both her sins and his.

Michael slid his finger to her lips. "I only did it because I wanted you to love me...like you love him," he said as he nodded towards Harry. Michael moaned as Laura pressed harder upon the wound. The knife lay near her, where Michael had set it down after he removed it from his own chest. Michael was quiet then, as he stared at Laura, and a brief moment later, his eyes became vacant, and he stopped breathing. Laura felt for a pulse and watched for another breath, but she saw and felt none. She tried CPR half-heartedly, but knew he had lost too much blood, and she let go.

Meanwhile, Gracie stood on the gravel outside, watching the scene unfold inside the cabin. As Michael stopped moving, she dashed inside the cabin, alarmed at what she was seeing, barely aware of the tears falling from her eyes in rapid succession. "Mommy?" she cried. Laura stood and went towards Gracie, opening her arms to the girl, who wrapped her arms around her mother's midsection and proceeded to sob into her sweatshirt. 

Holding her all the tighter, Laura leaned down to press a salty kiss to her daughter's head, and said, "I'm here, Gracie girl."

Harry smiled lightly, despite everything, as he looked at Laura and Gracie. Moving forward from where he stood, next to a stunned and silent Sean, Harry found a blanket, which he covered Michael with so that his body was no longer visible. As he did so, he heard the distant hum of a siren, and knew the police had arrived. He was in shock from the events, as he imagined they all were, but he stepped shakily around Michael's body and Laura and Gracie so that he could meet the police on the front stoop.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Police swarmed all over the cabin as they taped things off for the investigation. Laura never strayed far from her daughter, and for the moment, Harry was pleased to see that the both of them were in the company of the police, safe from any further harm. He guessed that it would take a long time for all of them to recover from the events that had just taken place. Looking around, Harry spotted Sean, still sitting at the kitchen table, being handcuffed by an officer. His face looked drawn and gaunt, but he managed to emit a tiny smile as he gazed upon Harry. "Well, 'arry my boy, I...I owe you an apology. Michael told me the truth, and I know that it wasn't your fault my Maryn died." Sean bit his lip. It was hard to swallow, and he was just an old man again, not the vengeful spirit he had hoped to be. Now, he simply needed to make his peace.

Nodding slowly, Harry said, "Now you can move on, Sean. Just remember her the way she was." The old man wept openly then, as the police officer escorted him into the backseat of the cruiser waiting outside.

Nearby, Harry could see Laura holding Gracie as the paramedic looked her over for any sign of injury. He stood for a moment, content to watch the two together amid the confusion. Another officer taking down notes for a report came over to question him on the events of the night. When he was finished and had taken Harry's statement, he paused an extra moment, then asked in an unsure voice, "Don't…don't I know you from somewhere?"

Smiling, he said, "I don't think so."

"You look so familiar," the officer said, doubtfully.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know how you could. I'm just...her father," he smiled broadly, indicating Gracie. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think my daughter might need me."

Looking puzzled, the officer walked away as Harry approached Laura and Gracie, the girl snuggled on Laura's lap all the while talking animatedly. Both looked up at him, Laura with a gentle smile upon her face, Gracie with a look of genuine solemnity upon hers. Laura stood and helped Gracie to her feet. "Why don't we go give the police our statements, Gracie?" she asked.

Gracie nodded, and sensing that the two needed to be alone for a moment, she scampered off with a girlishness that Laura was glad she hadn't lost during the ordeal. "I don't think there's much that I can say right now that could really tell you...I mean, I know there's still a lot that we have to discuss, but..."

Harry put a finger across her lips. "We can do that later. She's safe, and that's what's important. Did you call Mildred?"

"Yeah. I told her the good news, and I talked to Luke for a few minutes. We're going to have a major talk later about his father, though. He won't understand," she said, sighing as a few tears came, unwanted, to her eyes. Sensing the need for it, Harry opened his arms and welcomed her into them. For a moment, she let herself be weak, and held on tightly to a man that up until the day's events, she had seen as undependable and untrustworthy. But at that moment, she saw him only as steady and unfailing, and she knew that everything would be okay. "No, wait. I need to do this now, because I can't stand the thought of not telling you. I was stupid, and I left because I thought I was doing the right thing, not because I didn't love you more than I've ever loved a man. I know that I've made a lot of mistakes, and I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?" she asked as she drew back from him.

Hesitantly, he said, "I will be able to, eventually. Just give me time."

She nodded. "I know. I didn't expect it right away. I just want to make it up to both of you."

"You can do that right now," he said impishly. "You can tell me how you feel about me now. After all, it's only fair that you tell me since I've told you."

Laura laughed. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she asked as she grinned up at him. The grin faded when he leaned down and pressed a tentative kiss to her lips, asking permission. She agreed.

She steadied herself when it was done, and asked, "Can we take it slow? We're different people now, and I don't want to mess things up. It's too important."

"I think I can live with that," he said.

When she saw Gracie from the corner of her eye, she drew back and said, "I'm going to go give my statement now. Talk to her," she whispered, giving him a confident smile as she walked away. 

Laura patted Gracie's backside, urging her towards Harry, and then left the two in confidence. She hadn't messed things up permanently. Their relationship could still be fixed. Gracie stumbled over the first two steps, but she kept up her slow pace until she reached the man.

"You look like your picture, you know," she blurted out as she came to a stand still in front of him. "I mean, I know it was mom with you in that picture, and that had to be a long time ago, but you look the same still."

He nodded, lacking words. A gust of wind blew a few strands of hair across her face, and the look made her seem all the more endearing than her little speech had. It was quiet between them, but for the trees groaning in the background.

"Why did that man do this?" she asked suddenly, filled with curiosity.

"Sean believed that I did something a long time ago, when I was about your age, and he tried to get back at me."

"Did you do it?"

"No. He didn't know until just now that he was mistaken."

"Like mom?"

Harry was caught off-guard. "What do you mean?"

"I heard you guys talking. I heard her say that she was sorry about some mistakes she made, but she didn't know they were mistakes until now."

"You know, you are absolutely right."

Gracie beamed. Then things were silent again. As she stood, putting her weight only on one grungy tennis shoe, Gracie thought of her mother's and stepfather's mistakes, and she felt a familiar ache behind her eyes when Michael crossed her mind. Her nose twitched, and she tried to hold out, but it was to no avail. She reached for him, and her small, freckled arms were suddenly wrapped around him, and her tiny body embraced him. Overwhelmed and quite unsure, Harry enveloped her, holding her closely so that she felt as though she was the only one in his entire world, and safe. Harry breathed in steadily, catching Gracie's scent as he closed his eyes, not noticing Laura's eyes upon them. And as for Gracie, nothing else mattered, because she was _finally_ home.


End file.
